Realm of Betrayal
by Lynx Yamato
Summary: A war has been going on for centuries and it's much more troublesome than it's worth. What happens when one untalented girl aspires to put a stop to its treachery by impersonating her brother? What will Thranduil do when he discovers her secret? LegoOOC
1. Constant Dreams

Lynx: I'm back and I have finally started my centrepiece fiction.

Legolas: Yeah, after waiting on it for five months or more?

Lynx: Don't kill my thunder!

Legolas: You can't 'kill' thunder…

Lynx: Well you just killed mine.

Legolas: (walks away shaking his head)

Lynx: Sigh… please read and review.

Haldir: I guess I'll just do the disclaimer… Anyway, Lynx does not own some of the characters and places mentioned in this story. Taurens rule also.

Read, enjoy, and review.

* * *

Dark clouds rolled as mighty winds cascaded across the Running River, blowing the thick downpour of rain sideways. The once-wealthy fields were littered with blood and bodies of a raging war between two clashing races. Lightning separated the skies as the sound of swords clanking, arrows flying, and voices shouting filled the air. 

It was a war that had lived for two centuries… a war over ownership of the plains that stretched between the sea of Rhûn and the forest of Mirkwood. It was a battle between two races, the wood-elves of Mirkwood and the taurens from Rhûn. The stretch of land was generally unnamed, but for the last decade it has been known as the fields of Edhel-Dagnir. In common tongue, the name spoke of the recent decline of the elves; the last few outbreaks of conflict having not gone well with them.

"My lord!" The call broke Amros from his silent reverie. He turned around to face Calagin, his advisor and long time battle companion. Calagin tore towards him through the lines of the tauren troops, cradling his bleeding arm. "My lord!"

"Calagin, what is it?" Amros asked, his deep voice carrying out to him easily.

"It's a trap!" Calagin exclaimed, grabbing the stirrup of the horse Amros sat upon for support when he finally reached him. "Some of the wood-elves were sent around the field to ambush us from behind!"

Amros cursed under his breath, a sour look on his face, "Damn that Thranduil... thinks he can outwit me."

"What are your orders, my lord?" Calagin wavering voice called Amros' attention to him once again.

"How large is the troop of wood-elves behind us?" Amros asked, looking back down at Calagin.

"Not great, my lord." Calagin replied, "Only approximately fifteen lines deep, thirty soldiers each."

"Hmm… send in twenty lines from the back; that shall do splendidly." Amros looked over his shoulder at the masses of his army. The first five lines were already engrossed in battle with the army of Thranduil's elves; the rest were waiting for the battle to deepen. "Keep the archer's firing."

"Yes, my lord." With that Calagin sped away, his white fox tail billowing out behind him.

"Blades at the ready!" Amros shouted to his soldiers that were not in battle, his large, black fox ears flattening against his charcoal-coloured hair. "Charge them!" He drew his own blade from its sheath as his grey speckled horse whinnied and reared impatiently.

The soldiers surrounding him cried out loudly in response to his command before rushing forward to advance upon Thranduil's army. The many archers formed lines in front of Amros, before letting out a flurry of arrows raging with flames.

* * *

Meanwhile, King Thranduil sat upon his horse on the opposing side of the field, drinking in the sights with his moon-coloured eyes. There was a calm, yet confident look on his face. 

"Your majesty." Lolindir approached him, looking quite pleased. "Amros has sent twenty lines of soldiers upon our own on the other side of the field."

"Just what we wanted him to do." Thranduil laughed, shaking his head of platinum blond hair. "We shall distract his back rows, leaving him weak in the anterior. We shall attack with the army we left in the cover of the forest. Send word to the men in the forest that we shall need them very soon."

"Yes your majesty." Lolindir bowed low, his long jet-black hair spilling over his shoulders and sweeping the blood stained grass. He straightened up quickly and hurried off towards Mirkwood.

"Keep assaulting the front lines!" Thranduil instructed loudly to his warriors. "Archers at the ready!"

* * *

Amros grinned in satisfaction, noting that his troops were slowly pushing back Thranduil's forces, pushing them back towards their spider-infested trees. 

He swiveled on his horse and surveyed the battle going on behind him, noting that the elves were keeping up a decent defense.

"My lord!" Calagin raced towards him, his light sea green eyes wide in horror. "My lord Amros! This is terrible!"

"What is it Calagin!" Amros jumped down from his horse, startled at what could possibly be bothering him when the battle was going so well for them. He grasped the troubled tauren by the forearms, steadying him.

"Thranduil has a secret army hidden in Mirkwood forest!" Calagin breathed out while trying to catch his breath. "It is a great army, possibly larger then the one he has on the field!"

Amros stared wide-eyed at Calagin, the words taking a great toll on him. His mind frantically tried to calculate the best plan of action towards this new threat.

"There is no possible way that we can survive that great in numbers!" Calagin fretted heavily. "It would be slaughter, my lord! We must retreat to Elvirin!"

Amros released his hold on Calagin then returned to his horse. He leaned against the saddle, his forehead resting against his arm.

"Your instructions my lord?" Calagin asked as he sheathed his bloodied sword.

"How goes the posterior battle?" Amros sighed.

"Not well my lord." Calagin said timidly, "Somehow the elves are slowly backing us into a corner."

"Then how are we to retreat? We cannot get past those in the way of the sea." Amros said more to himself then anybody else.

"I advise that we send the horsemen to the back to take care of the elves left." Calagin suggested cautiously. "That will clear our way towards retreat."

"Do so then." Amros replied calmly, climbing back onto his horse.

"As you wish, my lord." Calagin bowed slightly before he rushed off again.

"Thranduil you have not seen the last of me… revenge will be had…" Amros swore under his breath as he stared out across the battlefield.

* * *

At the same moment, King Thranduil was also staring smugly out in Amros' direction. 

"King Thranduil, we have some bad news." Lolindir said after he gave a deep bow. "The posterior forces are straining under their horsemen."

"Hmm… seems like Lord Amros is attempting to flee the battlefield… Coward." Thranduil closed his eyes for a brief moment before reopening them. "We'll bring him down at the river. Prepare our horsemen."

"Yes, your majesty." Lolindir bowed once again in respect before he went to carry out his orders.

"I will not lose to such low life beings." Thranduil smirked arrogantly. "Victory shall be mine."

* * *

"My liege, the horsemen are ready." Lolindir reported as he pushed his way past the rows somewhat ten minutes later. 

"Send them out after Amros' retreating forces." Thranduil instructed with an odd grin, "But I warn you, leave Amros alone... he is mine."

"As you wish."

* * *

"My lord!" Calagin dashes towards him through the lines of soldiers. "The path is clear! We must leave now!" 

Amros gave Calagin a short nod before bellowing to his army, "Retreat! Fall back to Elvirin!" He turned back to Calagin, "I'm putting you in charge, lead them well, Calagin."

"You cannot stay, my lord, you are in danger!" Calagin's eyes widened as he realized what Amros was trying to say.

"I will not leave this spot until I know that each and every one of my remaining soldiers is safe!" Amros replied calmly, his horse snorting slightly as many taurens raced past her.

"No my lord! That is madness!" Calagin shook his head frantically, "We cannot risk losing you; you are the greatest lord we have ever known! You are kind and generous!"

"Thank you, Calagin." Amros smiled softly at him, "But I am not changing my mind. If something happens to me, Valandil will rule in my stead; he is quite capable. Now go, that's an order."

"Yes my lord." Calagin bowed before turning his gaze on him once again, "I will pray for your safe return… may our strength and love guide you." He bowed once again before rushing away to carry out his orders.

Amros watched him go before turning his head back towards Thranduil's fast approaching horsemen. "Let them come..."

* * *

Amros frowned as Thranduil's horsemen raced past him and after the fleeing taurens almost as if he was not there at all. "What's on your mind, Thranduil…?" He whispered to himself. 

Over the thundering of hooves and the shouts from the warriors around him, Amros barely made out a strange whooshing sound when suddenly his horse whinnied and reared.

He leapt off it before the creature collapsed, a spear lodged in her side. Amros landed a few feet away, "Miralwen!" He dropped to his knees next to his dying horse, running his fingers over her muzzle in a soothing manner. She snorted softly, a soft whining noise leaving her throat before she closed her eyes and became still.

"You stayed out here by yourself, your army retreating home." Thranduil appeared before him on his horse. He dismounted and handed the reins over to Lolindir. "You are either very brave or very stupid."

"Thranduil…" Amros said with much acid as he narrowed his eyes. His black ears flattened against his head as he fisted his hand into the fine hairs of Miralwen's grey mane.

"Surrender the plains to me, Amros, and I will let you walk out of this hellhole unharmed." Thranduil proposed, "The alternative is not so merciful."

"No." Amros replied dully as he bore his sharp teeth. "You murdered Amondel, Thranduil, and now the greatest horse that I ever had. For that you will taste the steel of my blade."

"Your brother brought himself to my sword, Amros, and it was just a horse." Thranduil rolled his eyes. "I don't suppose you will ever get over your brother's death, though."

"Not until I get my revenge." Amros snarled as he brought himself to his feet.

"It's your funeral, Amros." Thranduil drew his sword, symbolizing a challenge.

"Not if I have a say about it." Amros replied as he drew his own blade.

Amros lunged at Thranduil, who blocked the strike with his sword and pushed Amros away. Thranduil took a swing at Amros' throat, but the tauren ducked down low and tried to stab Thranduil's side. The elf dodged to the side, wincing when the blade barely scraped his flesh.

The feud continued like this for a while, both covered in sweat and blood. Amros swung at Thranduil, locking blades with him. They tested each other's strength, shoving against each other, trying to gain the upper hand. Amros had a sudden surge of energy and began to push Thranduil back, the elf's boots dragging in the flattened grass.

Thranduil grit his teeth as his arms began to shake slightly with strain. In a swift move he hooked his foot behind Amros' and tripped the tauren. Amros fell onto his back with a grunt of dissatisfaction, he was about to get up again when Thranduil put a foot on his torso, keeping him grounded with his weight.

"Even if you kill me, you will not be able to claim these fields." Amros grinned wryly despite his current situation. "My son will rule in my stead and he will be your bane."

"Then I will kill him just as I did your brother and just as I am about to do you." Thranduil shrugged as he held the tip of his sword against Amros' throat.

"Kill me and get it over with, you filth." Amros urged viciously, his eyebrows arching to challenge to warlord.

"I will happily oblige then. Greet your brother for me." Thranduil smirked before he sent his blade soaring towards Amros' chest.

* * *

Laure shot up from her bed, drenched in sweat and breathing heavily. When she recognized that she was indeed in her bed chamber, she drew in a deep breath to try and calm herself. It was the fifth time that week she had had that terrifying dream, the one where her beloved father met the end of his rope. She threw the golden-lined covers off of her overly heated body, welcoming the cold air from the open balcony door. 

It was still fairly dark out with a few bright beams of light from the beginning of dawn coming through the trees that surrounded the palace of Elvirin.

Laure swung her legs over the edge of the bed and stood up, brushing her sleeve across her sweaty forehead. Yawning, she walked over to the balcony doorway, her light steps making one of the only few sounds in her bedroom. Her dark orange foxtail curled itself around her slim waist for warmth as she closed the door of her balcony.

"Laure?" A deep voice sounded from behind her, capturing her attention.

"Father." Laure smiled, recognizing that voice more than any in existence. She turned around and hugged Amros.

"What are you doing up at this time?" Amros asked, smoothing the stray pieces of dark mahogany hair out of his daughter's face.

"I couldn't sleep." Laure lied, shrugging in an attempt to seem casual.

"You are a horrible liar." Amros smiled at her, "What is on your mind?"

Laure sighed in defeat; she might as well just come right out and say it. There was no sense in beating around the bush. "Father, I don't want you to go to war in a week..." Laure replied, taking Amros' warm hands in hers and looking up into his steel grey eyes.

"You know I must, my jewel." Amros said softly, "As the Lord I must be there."

"Send someone else to command in your stead." Laure pleaded, "Do not go."

"What is bothering you, Laure?" Amros furrowed his eyebrows in concern; "You are not usually _this_ foreboding."

"It doesn't really matter what's bothering me so don't worry," Laure replied, "Please... just don't ride to war next week."

"You are the youngest of my three children Laure," Amros countered sternly, "I will always worry for you more then Valandil and Artanis."

"I can hold up my own just as well as Valandil or Artanis, father." Laure frowned at him. "I'm not a child."

"You are _my_ child." Amros reminded her with a fatherly smile.

"We're straying off topic." Laure smiled playfully, "Can you not go to war for me? I fear for your safety."

"It would be shameful if I backed down from Thranduil's challenge." Amros lifted Laure's chin up as he tried to make her understand. "A man's reputation is worth much these days."

"That is a foolish way to live." Laure pulled away from her father.

"I am deeply sorry, my jewel..." Amros turned towards the door. "The soldiers need me there." He sighed and left the room, softly closing the door behind him.

Laure frowned in displeasure at her father's words, not even for her would he not attend this one war out of many. The acid flames in her dark emerald eyes sparked with realization… she would have to do something to stop this war. She would not lose her father after losing her mother.

Laure smiled sadly at the memory of her beautiful mother even though she did not remember much. Her eyes becoming glossy with fresh tears; her mother, Eresse, died when she was the human equivalent to three years of age. The city they had lived in before the palace of Elvirin was built had been called Altarien. Its ruins didn't reside in the forest where Elvirin was located; it was in the mountains on the opposite side of the sea. The day it was overrun and burnt to the ground by the wood-elves was the day that Eresse died.

Laure sighed again before banishing the thoughts about her mother. She really needed to come up with something fast... Quickly her mind concluded that she would and could not tell her father of her intentions towards the war, it would be like having a death wish. Then her mind raced on, racking up possible solutions to the problem. If a truce was formed between both realms and the ownership of the land was shared or divided in half, whichever the two rulers preferred, then there would be no more war and no more loss of life.

But how to get the truce in place and before next week…

Laure sat down on her bed, her dark orange ears flattening against her head with intensive thought.

She realized that she was the only one that she could trust to propose a truce to King Thranduil of Mirkwood. There was one problem with that conclusion… Thranduil, being the arrogant and independent warlord that he was; he would not listen to the words of a woman from the opposing realm, let alone the youngest daughter of his nemesis. She would find herself hanged before she could even say 'truce'. Perhaps, though, Thranduil might listen to the Prince of War… Prince Valandil, mighty and feared for his capabilities; orange fur, dark green eyes, dark hair, and mighty sword.

"Citizens always did say that I turned out to look a lot like him… and Thranduil has never seen Valandil up close…" Laure whispered to herself, her eyes staring at an unmoving spot on the floor.

"Maybe… just maybe… the elves will mistake me for him."

* * *

Omigod that only took like three hours. Please review… 

Lynx.


	2. Hastily Onwards

Lynx: I'm back and I hope you all at least liked the last chapter just a teensy bit.

Legolas: When do I get introduced…? This is terribly boring… sitting here only on the A/N's and not in the actual story.

Haldir: Don't whine… I only get to be present for disclaimers. Oh yeah. Disclaimer: What does not belong to Lynx belongs to Tolkien, and what does not belong to Tolkien, belongs to Lynx. (Kicks the lawyers out)

Legolas: I want to kick lawyers out too…

Haldir: Be my guest…

Legolas: You shall all die! (Evil laugh)

Lynx: Uh… anyway, the usual read, enjoy, review motto.

* * *

Laure went about her room, tossing necessary items for her trip onto her unmade bed from all directions. When she was finished scouring her entire room down to the last drawer, she tossed her few things into a pack that she had found in one of her dressers and slung it onto her shoulder in satisfaction. It was still early in the morning; she knew many people were sleeping at this time. 

When she got no more than three steps towards the door, it swung open, revealing her older sister, Artanis, middle child of Amros.

"Laure?" Artanis questioned as a surprised look came to her flawless face. "Are you planning to go somewhere?"

Laure blanched, searching her mind for something to say. She had not expected this... Quickly she ushered, "Archery practice."

"This early? Are you out of your mind?" Artanis' grey eyes traveled down to the pack hanging off her younger sister's right shoulder. "What's that for?" She asked suspiciously.

Laure chuckled nervously, "You know me… always prone to accidents… it's my medical supplies for treating on the spot injuries."

"Yes, I do know you." Artanis grinned, "Anyway, Father said you were awake so I came down to ask if I could possibly borrow that necklace Saeros gave you. It would go perfectly with that gown I have…"

"Ah… yes, help yourself." Laure smiled at her sister, impatiently tapping her thumb on the strap of her pack.

"You know I will." Artanis strode towards her dresser in four long strides, her black tail swishing with excitement.

"Well, good day, Artanis." Laure bowed her head to her sister. "I have to go practice that archery if I am ever to improve."

"Good day to you too, Laure." Artanis replied without turning around as she shuffled through her sister's jewelry box. "Oh... um… you're not going outside dressed like that, are you?"

Laure looked down at herself, noting that she was wearing a simple pair of pearl-white leggings with a hint of blue, a forest green tunic and a black velvet cloak with a hood. She smirked at Artanis' antics, "Of course I am."

"My sister, the tomboy of the family…" Artanis clucked her tongue against her teeth as she resumed fishing through the jewelry.

Laure turned and left the room, shaking her head. She went the direction of the gardens, where she usually practiced archery. She quickly hid behind an open door a few rooms away, waiting for her sister to come out so she could head in the opposite direction. Just as she suspected, her sister came out of her room wearing the necklace that the despicable Saeros gave her. Artanis closed the door quietly and went back into her room just across the hall.

Laure let out the breath she had been holding and adjusted the pack on her shoulder. Calmly, she made her way down the candle-lit hall of marble and tapestries, down the hall towards Valandil's room…

She reached his door to find it wide open and luckily unoccupied. She looked down the hall both ways to check if anyone was watching before she entered his room. Laure knew exactly where Valandil kept his battle armour, and she needed that armour to look convincingly like her brother. She went over to the oak dresser on the opposite side of the room and opened the second drawer from the top. There sat Valandil's armour in all its shining glory. It really was a beautiful set of armour; the metal it was made out of was bright silver and had not a speck on it. It was brimmed in sapphire and gold, with gorgeous tauren script engraved on the waistline and in the area of the collarbone.

Laure picked it up and held it before her, examining it. It was much lighter in weight than any normal armour, but it was as hard as diamond. It was a material only found on the reefs in the sea of Rhûn and was very hard to find. She carefully slung the armour over her shoulder, careful not to harm it in any way. She fished out Valandil's armlets and the silver shirt and leggings he wore underneath it, also placing them in her pack.

After she tucked Valandil's boots into her pack and grabbed the silver circlet that her brother often wore during war from its seat on top of the dresser, she closed the drawer and looked around for the only missing part… his sword. She froze when she suddenly heard footsteps and voices coming down the hallway.

She frantically looked around the room until her eyes came into contact with Valandil's mighty weapon on the opposite side of the room sitting on a rack on the wall. She dove across the room, grabbed the sword and its sheath from the rack, shoved them into her belt and dashed out onto the balcony.

Valandil then came into the room, closely followed by Amros.

"Yes, I have noticed that Laure has been acting very strangely the past week." Valandil said as he plopped down onto his bed, exhausted from the day's errands and nearly falling asleep where he sat.

"I wonder what is ailing her... My, is it cold in here!" Amros shivered suddenly before he had the mind to say anything else, "Do you always leave your balcony door open?"

"I must have forgotten to close it this morning before I left." Valandil shrugged as he pulled off his brown every-day boots and brushed back his mahogany hair tiredly.

Amros walked over and shut the balcony door, before returning to his conversation with his son that Laure could not hear anymore.

Laure was pressed up against the wall on the outside, waiting for Amros to get of view. The moment he did, Laure went to the rail of the balcony, looking for the easiest way down. She noted that it wasn't that far of a jump, maybe five meters vertically at the most.

'A real tauren could handle that easily,' Laure thought to herself as she tied Valandil's armour onto her pack so she could have her arms free. Frowning in concentration, she climbed onto the other side of the rail and lowered herself slightly for a shorter fall. She let go and landed gracefully on her feet before sinking down to her knees as her father's chief advisor, Calagin, strode by. He was the type of person that liked to get up early in the morning and take long walks. His daughter, Tari, was the same way, she also happened to be a great friend of Laure's.

When Calagin finally passed, his whistled tune silencing around the corner, Laure leapt out from the bush she had been hiding in. She sprinted across the grass and through some trees towards the stables, the armour on her pack jangling softly as she went. She almost screamed when Tari jumped out from behind a tree, her grey ears pressing against her blond hair in displeasure.

"And where do you think you are going?" Tari raised a sleek eyebrow at Laure, frowning the whole time. "You think you can just run away at the crack of dawn and not have anybody know about it? And is that Valandil's armour? You're stealing it! What is wrong wi-"

She stopped when Laure put a hand over the other's mouth and signaled for her to be quiet.

"I'm putting a stop to this war once and for all." Laure whispered, pulling Tari towards the stables and looking around to see if anybody saw them.

"Are you out of your mind?" Tari hissed when they got there.

"Why does everyone keep saying that to me?" Laure sighed exasperatedly, "It's starting to aggravate me."

"Laure, you cannot stop a war all by yourself, this is ridiculous!" Tari continued, ignoring her comment, "You're going to get yourself killed."

"Do not underestimate me." Laure snapped, her patience running thin. "I have to go Tari, promise me that you will tell no one that I am gone. You cannot tell anyone!"

"But Laure-!"

"No! Promise me!" Laure grasped the startled tauren by the shoulders.

"Fine, I promise… just… be careful." Tari whispered, hugging her friend, her sea green eyes brimming with tears. "I've heard a lot of disturbing things about King Thranduil."

"I promise… I'll be fine." Laure hugged her friend back. "Remember don't tell anyone."

Tari nodded in response, intent on keeping her word. She sniffed teasingly, "Look at you, all grown up and going out into the world on your own."

Laure grinned before she went into Lhunor's stall. The black horse belonged to Valandil and had been seen in battle with him. Laure needed to take every precaution if her scheme was to work. She saddled up the horse and fed it a handful of grains before she leapt onto its back.

Laure looked down at the teary Tari, "Remember, you've been sworn to secrecy. You can't tell anyone."

Tari nodded solemnly then waved as Laure kicked the horse into a gallop and was carried off into the trees, her hood in place so she could not be identified.

The guards at the gates let her through, considering that many taurens liked to go to the shores of the sea this early in the morning.

Laure rode hard for at least two hours before she began to set up camp near the border of the forest of Rhûn.

Leading Lhunor over to a shaded tree, she tied his reigns onto a low tree branch and allowed him to graze on the grass at his feet. She walked at least five feet from him and began to set up a fire. The moment she got the flame to spark up, she began to set up a makeshift bed out of her cloak. After getting it to her liking, she lay down and waited for sleep to claim her. Before she knew it, she drifted off to sleep without much difficulty, thoughts of tomorrow becoming her dreams.

* * *

She awoke abruptly the next day when a single cold and wet raindrop splattered onto her forehead. Wiping it off with her sleeve, she sat up, examining the darkening sky for signs of the weather. The sun had already begun to disappear behind a sheet of dark, ominous looking clouds, just waiting to pour their contents out onto the world below them. 

Laure stood, stretching the kinks out of her muscles and yawning. The fire had long since burnt out, leaving nothing but ashes and blackened wood in its wake. Sighing, she began to quickly take off her clothes. After binding her chest tightly, she pulled on Valandil's silver leggings and his shirt from her pack. It was much too baggy for her, but she would deal with it as long as necessary. She shrugged the reflective armour on like a sideways jacket before fastening the leather latches on the sides, tightening them until they were comfortably at the right width.

She dug around in her pack until she found her brother's armlets, which were equally as impressive as the armour itself in its own way. Instead of being made of priceless materials, they were dark brown leather nearly black in shade. They too had beautiful flowing tauren script twisting around the wrists and the forearm in cleverly planned formation. After tugging those on over her forearms, she sat down and began to wrestle Valandil's lengthy boots onto her own feet. They were similar in colour as the armlets and had the same script engraved in silver, wrapping around the shins like vines of ivy. They were very comfortable boots and when put on properly, covered the entire leg up to the knees.

Sighing in relief, she finally fastened her long black cloak around her neck and shoulders, eternally grateful that her brother had the exact signature cloak as she. All three of them received these cloaks from their father as a gift, made of the finest velvet in all of Rhun. They were identical, each of silky ebony with large hoods and an extravagant silver clasp in the shape of a fox's tail to fasten it with.

She started digging around in her pack once more and extracted from it her brother's silver war circlet with the sapphire jewel embedded on the front. The strands of silver wrapped elegantly around the jewel and around each other like strings of yarn. She placed it on her head, relishing the cool feeling the silver brought to her forehead, where the jewel shone brightly.

As the last bit of her masquerade, she would have to do something about her face, even though it did look much like Valandil's, but with a feminine touch. Taking the inside of her cloak, she rubbed off any beauty enhancements from her face, including the substances on her lips and on her eyelids. With that done, she mussed up her hair a little more towards her brother's fashion and tucked the rest of it underneath her cloak so her hood was accessible at any given moment.

With that being everything she could possibly do towards making herself look like Valandil, she closed her pack after throwing into it all remaining items that she was not wearing. She strode over to where Lhunor stood with his head bent down to the grass. She patted his mane fondly before attaching her shrunken pack to the saddle so she would not have to carry it. After untying the black horse's reigns from the branch, she hoisted herself up onto the saddle and gently nudged him. He snorted in annoyance at having his breakfast cut short but made no further complaint as he began a quick trot, riding away into the west towards the elvish kingdom of Mirkwood.

* * *

Lynx: Omigod… so much description I know it's boring, PLEASE REVIEW I NEED REVIEWS (bursts into tears) 

Haldir: (automatically goes to console her)

Legolas: (looking for more lawyers to boot out)

Laure: (walks in) I've been called to say the farewells. We hoped you enjoyed reading, now we wish for you to review please, for the sake of this author and her moral.

Legolas: (finds one lawyer hiding under a desk) (smiles like a devil)

Lawyer: (screams and runs)

Legolas: (gives chase) Come back here you vile human! I shall destroy youuuuuu!


	3. Behold the Elven Craft

Lynx: I don't know why I'm even continuing this fic… barely anybody is even reviewing.

Legolas: You are continuing for the sake of the story itself and your morale of course.

Lynx: What moral? Only a few people really actually liked this fic.

Haldir: Isn't it those few people that matter? (Is proud of self)

Lynx: (sighs) Whatever. I will continue. Read, enjoy, and review, blah blah blah.

Legolas: (goes to hunt lawyers) You cannot hide from me for long! I know you are in here!

Lynx: Oh! And thank you so much hippie jade! I'm so happy you reviewed. It made me very happy that someone enjoyed my story.

Lynx: Oh by the way. This story is dedicated to my bestest best friend in the entire world, Kayla. (aka FireDivine) You give me the inspiration to write. God bless you, hehe. (Mumbles) Not to mention that you always hark on my ass if I don't write anything in a week… but we shall not mention that, impatient one.

* * *

Within a few hours of riding, the ominous clouds had begun to pour their contents onto world below as if to rinse it free of war's grasp. Unfortunately for the civilization in Middle-earth, the Gods that supposedly resided above were not so forgiving as to do so. 

Laure blinked the heavy drops of rain that obscured her vision from her long eyelashes. Her dark hair and her clothes clung to her flesh as she peeled her hood away from her head and readjusted it. The chill hung around her just like the water and perspiration clinging to Lhunor's coat of black silk.

Steadily the trees of the unpromising forest of Mirkwood grew larger before their eyes, as did the foreboding in Laure's heart. Lhunor snorted and tossed his dark head slightly as if he sensed his bearing's anxiety. Laure patted his neck fondly and slowed him from a full gallop to a mere canter.

The border of Mirkwood loomed before them, appearing as a definite change from bare plains to thick overgrowth of lengthy vine-covered trees of all sorts. Halting her horse, Laure jumped from his back and studied the forest in front of her heavily. Satisfied, she began her trek to the Elven-king's great halls, leading Lhunor gently by the reigns.

Her footsteps on the moss-covered dirt and roots, as light as they were, seemed to echo eerily throughout the entire area. The harsh blow of the wind and the heavy downpour of rain noticeably lessened from the moment she stepped into the woods, the canopy above shielding her from a large percentage of the weather.

Putting down her hood she continued to walk, her dark orange ears fanning out very slightly to pick up any sounds that might have been missed by the normal human ear. Cautiously looking around, she figured that she wouldn't reach the palace area for another hour or so.

The only comfort Laure received in such a strange and unfamiliar place was the slight click-clacking of Lhunor's hooves behind her. In her mind, Laure knew that from here and on would be the hardest element of her spiritual trial…

* * *

An hour into her journey on foot when the sun was nearly finished setting; strange feelings began to escalate radically in Laure's heart and mind. She had the strange sense that she was either being watched or followed. Even Lhunor began to get anxious, tossing his head and snorting irritably. 

There was just then an odd zipping sound, and then an arrow struck the ground where Laure was about to take her next step.

She stopped immediately, her eyes going wide with surprise.

"Halt, intruder!" A shout was suddenly heard to her left. Her head snapped to the side, her gaze wandering, searching for the source of the voice.

Suddenly a dozen elves materialized around her from their perches on high branches or behind bushes as if out of thin air. Laure quickly had many arrows pointing at her skull, ready to be released.

One elf, silver-coloured in hair, stepped forward, a stony look set upon his face.

"Never before has a tauren dared to enter our woods voluntarily." He announced in a voice holding much venom. "You must be very brave or very stupid."

Laure didn't even blink at the comment, choosing to not acknowledge it as an insult.

"Who are you and what is your business here?" The elf asked curtly.

Laure did not reply immediately, and that angered him.

"Speak or meet your demise at the end of a dozen arrows." He said harshly, narrowing his grey eyes cantankerously.

"My name is Valandil. I come to negotiate with King Thranduil." Laure ushered so the small collection of elves would all hear her.

"_Prince_ Valandil, correct?" The elf-captain questioned before receiving a nod from the tauren. "What negotiations will you bring to King Thranduil's attention? Is it about the war?"

Laure nodded again, not moving even as Lhunor nuzzled her hand with his nose anxiously.

The elf gave a quick nod to his companions, and then the arrows were lowered much to Laure's relief.

After a short pause, he spoke again. "We will bring you before the King and let you speak."

"Anaro, are you certain?" One of the elves questioned hesitantly.

"We all believe that this war must end one way or another, no?" The elf captain, Anaro, stated. "I am willing to take a chance. If he proves to be unfaithful to his word... he will be killed."

'Comforting…' Laure thought to herself in dread, swallowing thickly and as quietly as possible.

The rest of the elves took Anaro's answer without further question, though many still looked doubtful.

"You will follow me," Anaro spoke to Laure once again, "Do not take our lenience lightly, Tauren, or you will find your end." With that, he whirled around and began a quick pace down Laure's original path, his silver cloak billowing out behind him.

Laure wiped some of the raindrops from her forehead, secretly glad that her masquerade had worked so far. She tugged Lhunor's reigns gently before following Anaro, holding her head high to show them that she was not intimidated.

The rest of the patrol walked around her, many with their bows in their hands, the arrows ready to be fired. Laure tried her best to ignore the disapproving and unfriendly looks she received during their uncomfortably silent stroll.

* * *

Fifteen minutes later, the trees gradually began to dissipate and the mighty palace came into view. Great walls of solid rock surrounded the palace and its grounds, the only way in and out taking the form of grand gates with vines of black iron sleek with the moisture of the rainfall. The trees encircled the area heavily, the tall ones having branches that crossed into the grounds beyond the stone walls. 

When they reached the majestic gates, Anaro put up his hand, signaling for his company to stop. He then alone came up to the gates, meeting a dark haired elf that stood on the other side. They conversed quietly for a few seconds, Anaro explaining something to him. They both periodically looked over at Laure, their eyes holding a look of caution and disapproval. After a moment of talking, the other elf looked over to the side of the gate and nodded to someone out of Laure's view. Anaro moved back to his group as the gates began to swing inward, allowing them passage through.

Laure and the other eleven elves followed Anaro inside the grounds of the palace. Laure looked around, her breath stolen away by the beauty of the area. The palace stood off the slight left, somewhat obscured from view by a small bundle of fruit-bearing trees. The ground was not moss-covered, but tended and pampered with lush green grass and small dirt paths criss-crossing and leading to important locations. Surrounding the palace were separate little clusters of structures, fine looking homes for common-folk made out of a luxurious wood. The palace itself was magnificent, made entirely of marble and rich minerals. There were a few steps leading up to the large wooden doors that served as the entrance of the building, surrounded by limestone pillars that supported the upper floors, towers, and balconies.

A slight tug on her right hand brought her back from her awe-struck state of mind.

"Feanol will take your horse to the stables." Anaro told her sternly.

Laure nodded and let Feanol take the reigns from her hands. The elves were not a bad race, so she trusted them with her horse if with anything.

Lhunor snorted but allowed himself to be led away on one of the narrow dirt paths.

The rest of the patrol, save for two elves, dispersed, eager to return to their homes and families. Anaro then led Laure onto one of the paths that winded through the fruit trees and to the palace. The two elves that remained followed them like guards, ready to attack if the need should arise.

Once upon the stone steps of the palace, Anaro turned to face Laure. "I cannot let you into the palace while you are armed."

Laure frowned slightly but took her brother's sword from her belt and handed it to the elf standing to her left. "That is the only weapon I carry."

Anaro looked her up and down, before approval. Laure then followed him up the steps and into the palace. Once inside, Laure again had her breath taken from her very lungs. The halls and corridors were lit by flaming torches and large openings in the walls, allowing in the diminishing sunlight and showing a wonderful view of the luscious gardens and villages. Painted on the walls were murals of ancient and mythical creatures alike, balrogs, dragons, and nymphs. Painted on the walls were legends of renowned elves and men that held a place in the history of their race. There were tapestries hung that had ancient and flowing elvish script and beautifully illustrated maps of Mirkwood and the rest of Middle-earth. The rest of the walls that stood uncovered were sculpted out and carved into statues of the past Kings and Queens of the wood elves.

She walked along behind Anaro, her boots making soft clacks against the polished marble floors that were so clean they mirrored the very images dancing above them. She had heard of the beauty of the elven craft, but never before did she dream that it looked anything like what her eyes showed her. Anaro stopped in front of a large set of doors at the end of the corridor in which they had walked.

"We are about to come before King Thranduil." He informed her briefly, his voice holding a breezy tone, "I suggest you do not speak unless spoken to." After that statement, he pushed open the oak doors, which themselves even held beautifully carved designs.

Laure walked in after him, tailed closely by the two elves that served as guards.

The throne room was very vast, the ceiling standing at least twenty elves tall and hosting a large glass chandelier that reflected the coming moonlight from the high, door sized windows and many silk draperies that showed the royal emblem of Mirkwood. The width of the room itself was the size of a ballroom and made voices echo loudly. There were columns standing in front of the granite walls, sprouting from glossy floor to the high ceiling. Statues of Thranduil's ancestors stood tall between the columns displaying elvish script telling about the person whom the statue resembled. On the opposite side of the room where Laure now stood, sat King Thranduil upon his throne of marble. His seat was decorated with green silk embroidered with silver lining and the royal emblem.

Anaro walked along the stretch of narrow green carpet that led from the doorway to Thranduil's throne. Laure followed him, the feeling of anxiety returning to her. When Anaro stopped before his King and bowed, Laure noticed that there was an empty seat on either side of Thranduil, one slightly larger then the other. She knew that the Queen of Mirkwood had long been deceased, but she wondered to whom the other seat belonged. Did Thranduil have an heir? Thranduil ceased talking to a dark haired elf who Laure assumed was his chief advisor.

"Your majesty…" Anaro began then continued at Thranduil's nod. "Prince Valandil of Rhûn has come far to negotiate."

"My apologies, Prince of War." Thranduil said while standing and straightening his deep green cloak. "Matters of war must wait until the morrow. I have important matters to tend to, they cannot be delayed."

"I understand." Laure replied with a bow of her head.

"Anaro, please take our guest to a room for the night." Then he added to Laure, "We shall speak tomorrow evening. Let us go, Lolindir, this cannot wait any longer." He began to leave, followed by his chief advisor.

Anaro bowed once more then turned to Laure. The moment he made eye contact with her he spoke, "I will take you to the guest wing. Come."

Laure only nodded before following him once again.

Anaro showed her to her room for the night and then left, probably to return to his family. Laure became slightly irritated when a guard was assigned outside her door, but she did not say anything. They had given her back her weapon, on the circumstances that she did not wear it.

Her room was large and comfortable, dressed in Mirkwood's signature colours of green and silver. The floor was of marble with a green rug placed before the door, the balcony, and underneath her king-sized four poster bed. There were two dressers of hard oak and a vanity with a large mirror that held not a single speck of dust. There was also a coat rack and fireplace with two green lounging chairs in front of it. Much to Laure's delight there was a bookcase and on the balcony outside there was a small table with two chairs.

Impressed, Laure put the pack she had retrieved from Lhunor's saddle onto her bed, which had a green comforter and fluffy white silken pillows. She was also very pleased with herself; her disguise had fooled even King Thranduil, as perceptive and suspicious a being he was.

Sighing heavily as the journey's exhaustion caught up with her and taking off her silken cloak, she undid the leather latch that held Valandil's armour onto her torso. Removing the armour and circlet and placing them in one of the dresser drawers, she sat down on the bed and began untying the laces of her boots. She was glad to get them off because they were slightly larger than her feet and it caused some painful problems to her toes when she walked. When she finished taking her boots off she unfastened her armlets and placed them on the small table beside her bed. She stretched then climbed into the bed, leaving on her brother's shirt and leggings to serve as night clothing. The bed was surprisingly comfortable, supporting her aching muscles to perfection. Rolling onto her side she began to watch the moon rise through the glass of the balcony.

Tomorrow would be an interesting and challenging day where Laure would have her wits put to the test. She would have to speak privately to King Thranduil and hope that he doesn't see right through her mask… that which could very well be what happens…

* * *

Laure awoke abruptly the next morning when someone knocked on her closed door. She looked over at the balcony, seeing that the sun was now high into the clear blue sky. It was noon already; she had slept through the morning. 

Cursing in her mind, she sprang out of bed and grabbed Valandil's armour from the dresser.

"Who is it?" Laure asked frantically when she heard another knock at the door.

"It's Anaro." A voice announced. "The King requests your presence in the dining hall for luncheon."

"I will be there." Laure replied, pulling on her armour and tightening it before placing the circlet once more onto her head.

"I must wait and escort you, you might get lost and nobody yet trusts you completely to wander on your own." Anaro informed her with a smug tone to his voice.

"Alright then." Laure responded with a frown as she pulled on the boots she had discarded beside the bed.

After tugging on her armlets, she smoothed her hair and fastened her black cloak around her shoulders and neck. She would not walk around without the armour; it was too risky to her disguise because it made her look bulkier then she was.

She opened the door to find Anaro standing there with his arms crossed comfortably. He was wearing a simple tunic, leggings, and knee high boots: the casual-wear of elves in the royal house.

"You need not wear your armour." He smirked slightly as he looked at her, "No one is going to suddenly jump out and attack you… unless of course you give reason to."

"I feel more comfortable with it, thank you." Laure replied icily. She did not much like this elf; he was arrogant and was certainly not a good host.

"If you wish it then…" He took a step back and inclined his head to the left. "I will take you to the dining hall now."

Laure nodded and followed him down the sunlit corridor, once again admiring the elvish craft.

"I apologize in advance for the hostility of our kind." Anaro spoke without even looking over his shoulder. "You must understand that the elves do not take this war lightly. You are seen as a threat to the peace of this palace and will be guarded everywhere you go."

"It would have been the same had one of the elves been seen in Rhûn." Laure assured him, "You don't have to apologize."

Anaro grinned slightly but ceased once they reached a large set of doors not so unlike the doors to the throne room. "I suggest you keep a low profile."

He then pushed the doors open and walked inside. Laure strode in after him but stopped the moment she got inside. The soft chatter and music in the background ceased as every elf in the room turned their heads and stared at her intently. She swallowed hard, unnerved by the silence that fell over the large room. Low profile, indeed...

There were long and narrow tables set around the room overflowing with rich and delicious looking elvish cuisine. There was a small, elevated stage-like area where minstrels stood or sat with their instruments to play light and airy music for the background of the scene. In the very centre of the room was another long and narrow table slightly larger then the ones that surrounded it. At the very head of it sat King Thranduil; he stood and signaled her over.

"You may sit in the empty seat next to me." He replied, his deep voice echoing through the silent room. He then added to the hundreds of elves in the room to continue eating and talking. The chatter once again rose in the room and the soft music continued to play. Underneath the merry talking was heavily veiled whispers accompanied by odd stares in Laure's direction. She drew in a deep breath and walked down the cleared isle, ignoring the glares and comments about 'intruders' she overheard. She reached the seat to the right of Thranduil and sat down cautiously.

"Excuse the behaviour of my people." Thranduil said as he returned to his meal. "They have never heard of a tauren coming to Mirkwood before."

Laure gave him a small smile at the comment and looked around, noting that among some of the elves of higher class were many of the common-folk that came to enjoy a nice meal with the rest of their kind. Thranduil might be a better King then she had first imagined.

"Has your stay so far been enjoyable?" Thranduil asked with a slight muse to his voice.

"Your residence is far more beautiful than in the tales I have heard." Laure said looking back at Thranduil. For the first time she noticed the elf sitting across from her to Thranduil's immediate left. He must have been the King's heir, for he looked a lot like Thranduil himself. He had the same basic facial structure and the same broad aura. There were some variations, such as where Thranduil had striking, blond hair the colour of the moon and sharp, silver-grey eyes, this elf across from her had sunlit, golden hair that spilled halfway down his back and intense, cobalt eyes the colour of the sky. His features were quite a bit softer than the King's, yet there was a great amount of strength and independence visible.

The moment this elf looked up and made eye contact with her, she hastily dropped her gaze to the empty porcelain plate before her.

As if he could read minds, Thranduil suddenly spoke again, a healthy dosage of pride in his voice. "I don't believe that you've met my son."

"I haven't." Laure replied hesitantly, looking up again to see that the said elf was looking at her.

"This is Prince Legolas, heir to my throne." Thranduil introduced his son with delight.

"Pleased to meet you, Prince Valandil." Legolas inclined his head in respect.

Laure gave a weak smile of acknowledgement and looked down at her plate once more. The elf she recognized as Lolindir sitting to Legolas' left gave a quick smirk and returned to his food. This prince must have been their country's pride and joy...

"What matters of war have you brought to us to negotiate?" Legolas suddenly inquired with a hint of interest in his soft-spoken voice.

Before Laure could open her mouth to reply, Thranduil spoke instead. "Let us not speak of war during such a merry hour, my son. After luncheon, Valandil, we will go to my study and negotiate."

"I agree." Laure concurred quietly, nodding her head slowly.

"Help yourself to the food then, it's not poisoned." Thranduil gave a warm smile, gesturing to the many platters with his eating utensil.

Laure smiled in return before bringing small amounts of different assortments to her plate. She decided that maybe this trip wouldn't be so bad or challenging. So far everything had worked well to her wishes and she hoped that it would stay that way until she left.

Maybe the war will end and Amros' life will be spared…

* * *

Lynx: I think that will be the end of this chapter. 

Legolas: Finally I am in the story! (Is happy) And the way you described me… I sound like a knockout.

Lynx: Why Legolas, you are a knockout. Hehe.

Legolas: Hehe.

Haldir: Review please, before someone inflates his head even more.

Laure: I concur.

Legolas: (glares) Spoil my fun, will you?

Lynx: Rawr you killed our thunder!


	4. One Thing in Common

Lynx: Wow! Fourth chappie already! And thank you to my wonderful reviewers! (Author's Note: I have changed the name of the tauren capital and of Amros' brother… I didn't like them. Malthen Taur-Elvirin and Beren-Amondel)

Legolas: I am missing my late night dessert for this… You better give us something good…

Lynx: Is that a threat I hear?

Laure: OoOoOoOo someone's gonna bite the dust.

Legolas: … women…

Haldir: They are a gift from the Valar!

Legolas: Are you sure?

Lynx: Rawr. That's it I'm gonna make sure you die in this story!

Legolas: What! I was kidding! Yes they are a gift from the Valar please don't kill me! (Sob)

Lynx: Men… so fickle…

Laure: They are a gift from the devil.

Haldir: That's not very nice…

* * *

Lunch went quickly, as did the food on the tables. Laure kept her mouth shut most of the time, with the exception of course to put food in it, but she barely spoke to King Thranduil or his son. The only moments that she did was when a question was addressed to her, but even then she gave the shortest answer possible. Several times during the occasion she had to catch herself before she spoke in her normal intonation, which was too feminine for her disguise.

"Was the food enjoyable, Prince Valandil?" Thranduil asked as he sat back in his chair.

"Please, just Valandil is fine." Laure smiled softly, "The food was excellent, thank you."

"Good." Thranduil seemed satisfied with her reply; "Then we shall leave to my study and discuss these matters of war."

Laure nodded before following Thranduil's example and standing.

"Ion nin, would you like to accompany us?" The king addressed Legolas with a hopeful voice.

Legolas thought for a moment before he shrugged in response, "I don't see why not."

Thranduil began to make his way towards the grand doors, Laure walking slowly in his wake. She once again had to ignore the stares she received and some of the comments her sensitive ears picked up.

"Don't let them intimidate you." Legolas' voice suddenly cut through her thoughts like a knife. Laure looked over to find that he now walked alongside her. "They are not used to visitors of your race." Legolas looked away momentarily, disturbed at how racial that sounded to him.

Laure grinned slightly at this, finding some humour in how father and son did think a lot alike. "I understand where they're coming from. No need for apologies, I've already gotten plenty of those."

Legolas smiled and nodded in agreement. He carried himself very gracefully and walked with long strides, his chin parallel with that of the marble floor. His jaw was level with the top of Laure's head; he was generally the same height as Valandil himself.

When they reached the sanctuary of the hallway, Thranduil veered off to the right and led them down a corridor lit by flaming torches instead of the steady beat of the sunlight, for this hall was leading towards the inner sanctums of the palace. Their footsteps echoed softly against the ancient walls, sending chills down Laure's spine.

"Welcome to my study, Valandil."

Laure suddenly found herself standing in the doorway of Thranduil's study, heavily flourished with scarlet silken seats, a sparking fireplace, and a grand oak desk, polished until it was gleaming.

Thranduil walked to his desk, his footfalls muted by the softness of the scarlet rug. He shoved back all the papers littering the desktop as Legolas made his way over to a comfortable seat near the fireplace.

Laure adjusted her cloak slightly and took a seat across from the Prince of Mirkwood, busying herself with her hands so she would not have to make eye contact with any of them.

"Straight to the facts, Prince Valandil, what is it that you wish to bring to my attention?" Thranduil said with his eyes flickering routinely over a portrait on the wall of a beautiful woman with hair like sunflowers and eyes like the ocean. Laure automatically assumed that it was the wife he had lost some time ago. She couldn't assume much more because she had never heard the story in detail.

"About the war, your majesty…" Laure replied dryly, knowing full well that the outcome of this conversation depended on her political skills. "I dare say that we both see it as unnecessary, do we not?"

"Aye, that much can be said." Thranduil nodded in agreement, "Many people have fallen needlessly because of neither ruler's willingness to surrender… but this war is much more to your father than it is to me."

Laure frowned inwardly at this; it made absolutely no sense! How could such a gentle and compromising man be the warlord she had heard so much about? How could King Thranduil be her uncle's killer? Amondel had been Amros' older brother and the ideal heir to the throne before he was killed in battle by Thranduil's sword. Now here was Thranduil, standing before her not as a merciless murderer, but a fair king and leader who had lost a member of his own family, his lovely wife.

"True as that is, being a King, he must understand that the sacrifices must end." Laure countered suddenly after a moment of thought. "The real reason to this war has been lost and buried under many veils of revenge and a thirst for victory and many people are dying because of it. Husbands, brothers, cousins, uncles, fathers… all have died and many have suffered for it."

"And yet we still wage war." Legolas gave an afterthought. "I see where this is going… you wish for a truce? A treaty?"

Laure nodded; "Correct, I propose a pact and perhaps an alliance if we are in agreement."

"An alliance you say?" Thranduil raised a dark eyebrow. "Bold is that request, considering the circumstances."

"One cannot always take the most discreet and rational paths of life." Laure smiled slightly at this. "The act of forwardness can sometimes be the difference between life and death."

"I suppose that you speak with experience?" Thranduil responded graciously.

Laure concurred with a tilt of her head, "I do."

Thranduil sank into a seat beside his son, silently weighing the pros and cons in his head.

"I will have to think about this." He finally concluded. "I will get back to you as soon as the decision is made."

Laure forced a grin to her face. "Take as much time as you please, my lord." What were a few more days here in the ultimate place of doom for a tauren? It would be a piece of cake... or so Laure hoped...

"I shall. In the meantime, feel free to make yourself at home." Thranduil stood once again. "I will see you at dinner I presume. Good day, Prince Valandil. Good day, my son."

With that he left the room, his footsteps disappearing down the hall.

"Perhaps I ought to show you the gardens." Legolas suddenly suggested, "I'm sure that you have nothing else to do with your time."

"Now that you mention it that sounds like a superb idea." Laure said as she pulled herself to her feet, brushing a stray lock of mahogany hair from her face.

"Splendid, it's this way, if you will." Legolas gestured to the door, silently requesting that she go first.

"That elf maiden…" Laure inclined her head at the portrait Thranduil had been examining as she stepped towards the door. "She is the Queen, if I'm not mistaken."

"No, you are correct." Legolas said, closing the door behind them as they left. His tone held a touch of sorrow to it, giving Laure an idea of what had occurred.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said anything; it's none of my business." Laure apologized.

Legolas simply smiled as they began to walk down the hallway to the left. After a moment of peace with nothing but the sounds of the flickering torches and their light footsteps, he broke the silence. "I don't remember much of my mother… she died when I was young, but a mere child."

Laure could think of nothing to say at the moment, so she remained quiet, waiting for him to continue.

"Ethereal, she was, though I hardly recall the sound of her voice or what she enjoyed." His tone held such affection and sadness that it hurt Laure to know that she had brought it upon herself to remind him. "Father likes to talk about her a lot, and I enjoy listening. He used to weep when the incident was still fresh in our minds, but now I think that he just imagines that she sailed to the White Shores rather than being killed. Though sometimes I can hear his sobs late at night when he thinks that no one is awake."

"The White Shores…?" Laure inquired, preferring him to speak of something more cheerful. "What are those?"

"Valinor…" Legolas replied with a faraway look in his eyes of azure. "The place where elves go when their time comes to leave Middle-earth. They take the grey ships and sail to meet their loved ones who have already gone. I believe that my father already feels the sea longing, though he stays out of duty to his people. He will most likely leave when I become king, just as his father did."

Laure nodded in response as they now strolled smoothly down the granite steps of the palace, squinting when the sunlight beamed down on them from the clear sky.

Legolas began to lead her down a path that led around the palace towards the back.

"We share one thing in common, Prince Legolas." Laure announced as she watched the lovely houses pass them by.

"What would that be?"

"My mother died when I was young also, just learning basic swordplay." Laure nearly winced as a fresh wave of anger washed over her. "The city we used to live in was… overrun."

Legolas made a soft noise of recognition, but made no further attempt to recall the event.

"It was just a few years after I… after my youngest sister, Laure, was born, Artanis was just beginning to learn the ways of a lady." Laure said taking from the stories she had heard from both her father and her brother growing up. "My father was nearly consumed by the grief, and for a while he refused to speak about it. I think he's nearly over it now, but he's got a few ways to go. How did your mother die, if you don't mind me asking…?"

"She was going for a short horseback ride when she came across a band of orcs… I never got to see her body, but I vividly remember the blood." Legolas closed his eyes momentarily as they walked, as if willing the memories away.

"I'm sorry."

"As am I for you."

Laure smiled and let her gaze fall upon the entrance to the gardens, symbolized by a few well-placed berry bushes.

They stepped in and ceased walking so Laure could look. Her mouth opened in awe, it was the most beautiful garden she had ever seen and it was the size of an entire village. There were many stone fountains with elegant carvings of elves and animals, the water spouting out and sparkling under the sunlight. Littering the grassy ground were patches of wild and exotic flowers. She counted sunflowers, blossoms, roses, violets, and her favourite: lilies. Weaving through the bushes and flowers were gravel paths that led away into a deep thicket with tall birch and evergreen trees.

"Your kind certainly has a gift for maintaining greenery. It's magnificent." Laure offered tentatively, her breath having been stolen.

"The elves consider them selves one with the earth." Legolas explained, softly caressing the nearest tree, "We speak to trees, we hear their thoughts, we feel their emotions."

"What is that like?" Laure asked, catching the scent of a nearby rose, "I don't think I could ever imagine talking to a tree."

"It's phenomenal." Legolas replied, "We can hear their voiceless thoughts in our minds, almost like a foreign language that only the beholder and the receiver can understand."

"You're making me envious." Laure gave a cocky smile.

Legolas gave a small laugh, "But what I wouldn't give for one of those tails."

"An extra appendage can be both a blessing and a curse." Laure smirked, her orange, black-tipped tail swishing lazily to the side; "You certainly can't sleep on your back."

Together, their laughter filled the garden and merged with the chirping of the late afternoon birds.

* * *

Anaro paced his bedroom quarters, his silvery blonde eyebrows knitted together in deep thought. With one hand on his chin and another on his hip, he made another round about his room.

"That Prince Valandil… something is off with him." Anaro frowned, halting his pacing to stare out his balcony window. "What is he hiding…? I will find out."

He noticed sometimes the change in pitch of Valandil's voice, and it was peculiar to Anaro. He noticed how Valandil walked awkwardly for a man and how apprehensive he looked when he thought no one was watching. He was peculiarly lacking in height for a male, too... These traits did not add up to the picture properly, and the elf captain knew he would have to unearth the enigma that was Valandil for the sake of Mirkwood, lest it be a threat.

Anaro hurriedly strolled to his door and exited the room, his day cloak billowing out behind him as he rushed.

In the hall, five minutes down from his door, he ran into the exact person he was looking for.

"Renwe." The elf being addressed immediately stopped walking and turned his head of dark hair to look at Anaro.

"Yes captain?" The soldier cautiously inquired, a confused look settling in his hazel eyes at being called upon off-duty.

"You know of the tauren our patrol brought here yesterday?"

"Yes, captain, you speak of Prince Valandil." Renwe replied, turning the rest of his body so he faced Anaro completely.

Anaro looked up and down the corridor before he leaned forward and whispered, "I wish for you to keep a very close eye on him. Do not let him go anywhere without being under surveillance. I do not care who is watching him, as long as there is someone."

"Yes, captain." Renwe bowed his head slightly in respect, "But even into his bedchambers?"

"Everywhere." Anaro answered curtly, "Understood?"

"Yes captain." Renwe bowed his head once again before hurrying off down the hall.

"I will discover your secret, Valandil." Anaro swore under his breath, "I shall not rest until I do.

* * *

Lynx: OoOoOoOoOoOoOo is she going to be found out? OoOoOoOOoOoOoOo

Laure: That's annoying.

Lynx: Put a damper on the cliffhanger will you?

Legolas: I'm too sexy for my shirt. Too sexy for my shirt. So sexy it hhuuurrrrrtttsss. (Dancing along with the song by Right Said Fred)

Haldir: … (Hurriedly moves away and hides behind Lynx)

Lynx: (chirps) Review please!


	5. Somebody's Watching Me

Lynx: MERRY CHRISTMAS HAPPY HOLIDAYS. Lots to look forward to, readers.

Oh Also, **The Phreak **brought up a good point._ "Laure and Legolas are being a bit chummy even though they are on the opposite sides of the war."_ Is what was said. Well let me explain the concept. Yes Laure and Legolas unfortunately are on opposing sides of the war, but they are 'chummy' because they realize a number of things. One realization is that they both have the same views of said war; they agree wholly that the war has to be stopped for it is unnecessary and harmful to both kingdoms. The next realization is that they will have to work together to convince King Thranduil on an alliance to bring an end to the war, because it's virtually impossible to convince him on one's own (taking it that Legolas was nagging him like a housewife about stopping the war but Thranduil proceeded to ignore his own son's pleas). The last realization is that they have the potential to become great friends, and by doing so, they are setting an example to the rest of both realms. The example is that: yes, elves and taurens indeed can get along in a friendly manner and not have thoughts about killing each other in the process. Phew. My hands are typed out now. But does that clear things up a little? Maybe I'll incorporate everything I just said into this chapter, clear it up for everyone else. Thanks for bringing up a good point!

Lynx: A-ha-ha-hanyway, I hope you like this chappie, plenty in store for you.

Legolas: I'm not gonna die am I?

Laure: I can make it happen if you wish it so. (Grins evilly)

Haldir: (cheers) Lau-_re_! Lau-_re_! Lau-_re_!

Legolas: Can't you show a little bit of support for one of your _own_ kind!

Haldir: Nah. You're just so much fun to ridicule.

Lynx: Can you not feel the love emanating from us lovely bunch of coco**_nuts_**? I stress the nutty part.

Legolas: (sniffle) I am so unloved.

* * *

After a long chat accompanied by many cheerful laughs, Legolas became aware of the time. By the position of the sun, he calculated that it was very close to dinner.

"Maybe we should begin to make our way down to the dining hall; the sun is beginning to set." Legolas offered politely as he stood from the section of bench in which he had occupied.

Laure looked up at the sky and indeed the sun was just commencing in its long journey from the dark orange sky to dip into the horizon hidden behind a thick layer of trees.

"Sounds like a wonderful idea." Laure concurred, following the Prince's example and rising from her seat.

"I think you will find the evening meal rather scrumptious," Legolas beamed brightly at Laure, a new-found friend that he had connected with immediately on many levels. "The cooks are rather prominent when they know there are guests to impress. They would do exceptionally well especially if said-guest happens to be the _renowned_ Prince of War."

"Please, it's but a mere title." Laure scoffed good-naturedly, uncomfortable at the misdirected compliment. If only the elf knew that he was not speaking to Prince Valandil, but rather Princess Laure instead. How she longed to tell him her secret, the secret she had kept well, the secret that held in its hands the very key to her success here in Mirkwood.

Legolas was the type of person that made one wish to pour out the deepest and darkest secrets. He made one want to disregard all better judgment, and whether for better of for worse, tell things one swore not to tell. His personality demanded trust and confidence no matter the costs, his character insisted on complete faith in his judgment, though his deep azure eyes spoke of how he would not assess a person for what their soul hid from the rest of the world. He was the type of person one could fear or be intimidated by, for if he aspired to, he could use his remarkable charm to learn the very secrets that may well be used to destroy a person and everything they had built up towards.

_A/N: POV Change_

Legolas regarded Prince Valandil carefully as they left the gardens and made their way towards the nearest palace entrance. He noted the look of anxiety and yearning that had settled deep within those glowing jade-coloured eyes. The shorter tauren looked as if he deeply wished to tell him something, though he absent-mindedly chewed his lower lip as if it helped to keep his secret just underneath his tongue. Valandil was a mystery within a mystery, an alarming enigma that could make one want to pull their very hair out by the roots trying to discern what was occurring deep within that cunning mind of his. This trait of Valandil's made Legolas want to pray for the mystery to be solved, for he sensed that it would drive him insane unless the tauren's inner demons were unmasked.

"Are you alright?" Legolas solicited uncertainly, breaking the deep silence that had suddenly blanketed the two of them, "You seem distracted."

"No, I am perfectly well," Valandil suddenly flashed him a genuine smile, "You need not concern yourself with me. Thank you though, for asking."

Legolas hesitantly returned the smile with one of his own, deciding that it was best not to poke and prod at something that was sure to remain untold.

_A/N: Back to Laure's POV (yes I know I referred to Laure as Valandil, but that was Legolas' POV and that is how he views and knows her. Sorry for the A/N, just thought I'd clear that up.)_

Together they silently made their way towards the dining hall, both eager to get a taste of the delicious dinner being prepared by the cooks.

As they made their way down the corridor, Laure silently questioned herself on why she was becoming so friendly with this particular elf. It took her a moment or two to come up with a plausible explanation to the treason she was committing toward her own region. Her first reason was that she discovered that they had much in common to share and tell each other. They had countless things that they viewed similarly, the first and utmost being that they despised the war and wished for its end. They both had also lost their mothers at a young age, growing up under the influence and care of their fathers. Her second thought was that she couldn't possibly convince Thranduil to create an alliance between the two raging realms on her own, she concluded easily that Legolas was willing to aid her in that area. He had already proven himself worthy to that aspect during the brief council they held earlier that day. Her last realization was that if they grew to have a strong enough relationship, together they could prove that an elf and a tauren could indeed get along without killing each other within five minutes. They could set an example for the rest of the elves and taurens: friendship can exist amongst the midst of enemies…

"Do you think King Thranduil will accept my proposal?" Laure suddenly asked, startling Legolas out of his musings.

"Well, if he realizes what is good for our people…" Legolas shrugged ever-so-slightly, "I'm sure he will choose the wisest path."

"Well I am glad that someone sees hope in this situation…" Laure said softly.

"Tell me, this war has been going on for two hundred years," Legolas gave her a quick glance, curiosity settling deep within the depths of his blue eyes, "Why is it now that of all times that you wish to council us about ending it?"

Laure drew in a deep breath, letting it out slowly, "I fear that my father will come to the end of his reign in Elvirin if this war is not ended."

"Then you would be king, wouldn't you?" Legolas replied calmly.

"Well… yes." Laure gave a slight nod, "But I am not ready to command an entire kingdom on my own, with or without help from advisors, councilors, and my sisters."

"It's best if you not repeat that to anyone else." Legolas looked over his shoulder before speaking again, "Hand information such as that to someone like Captain Anaro and it is sure to be used against you and your kingdom."

"I trust you." Laure said simply, "I know you are not like Captain Anaro, valiant as he is."

"Thank you." Legolas smiled, reaching out to the door to the dining hall. He opened it and allowed Laure passage first.

Laure nodded her thanks and made her way to her seat with the King, Legolas following at her heel.

Thranduil looked up at their entrance and watched as they both took their seats on either side of him.

"You are just in time." Thranduil offered first, "the cooks just laid down the meal."

"Looks delicious…" Laure stared in awe at the elegant elvish cuisine, the strong scent of it enticing her senses.

"Well, don't sit there waiting for the sun to set. Eat!" Thranduil sipped his glass of wine delicately.

* * *

Laure yawned as she made her way back to the guest bedchambers. Legolas was right, dinner had been absolutely fabulous.

She opened the door to her room and entered oblivious of the pair of hazel eyes that watched every movement she made.

Exhausted she made her way to her bed…

* * *

Renwe looked up startled when he heard the doorknob turn. He closed the drawer he had been fishing through; he had been unable to detect anything out of the ordinary anyway. He sank into the shadows just in time to watch Valandil come in looking tired.

Renwe pressed his back against the wall, the shadow of the dresser engulfing him completely. He could feel the perspiration beginning to dot his forehead as his heart beat wildly against his chest. Hopefully he would not be detected...

Valandil began to undo the clasps that held his precious armour onto his torso; intent on getting to bed so he could sleep. Renwe narrowed his eyes and leaned forward very slightly while holding his breath.

Tossing his cloak onto the chair beside his bed, Valandil removed the top half of his armour, slipping it over his head. With his back to Renwe, he gently set the armour against the wall. He started to pull off his armlets as he turned more towards Renwe's direction.

Renwe drew in a quick breath, his eyes widening in the utmost disbelief. He rubbed his eyes and looked again… Valandil had the curves of a woman's body… it was an impostor! It was a woman disguised as Prince Valandil all along… he could hardly wait to tell Anaro!

She kicked off Valandil's boots and hopped into the bed, lazily throwing the covers over her body.

Renwe waited until she fell asleep so he could slip out of the room. Closing the door he let out a rush of oxygen. After a moment he let go of the doorknob and slinked down the darkened torch-lit hall.

Anaro would love to hear this!

* * *

Lynx: Merry Christmas and happy holidays. This was my present to my readers! (Hugs every one of you)

Legolas: (holds out his arms for Lynx to give him a hug)

Lynx: (walks right past him)

Legolas: …

Laure: (bounces over and gives Legolas a big teddy bear hug)

Legolas: XP. At least someone cares! (Sticks tongue out at Lynx)

Lynx: (too busy glomping Haldir)

Haldir: XD

MERRY CHRISTMAS!

HAPPY HOLIDAYS!


	6. All for One, One for Nothing

Lynx: Wow I think that was a tough Christmas for all of us DX

Legolas: (sigh) Christmas is not something us elves have.

Lynx: You're not missing much… Christmas is exciting sure, but it's been too commercialized. Most people like it because they get stuff, new shiny, pretty stuff. There are few who like it because it is a time to spend with your family, whether you are religious or not you celebrate the birth of Christ.

Haldir: (getting lost)

Lynx: Anywayyy… reviews! I answered them privately this time because I don't wanna get in trouble by the admin people for replying in my fic. Although** Altariel Elf** brought up a very good point in her review. She said _"Wouldn't Legolas also notice the things Anaro did? I mean with his trained eyes and all."_ Good point! I will answer that here!

The only reasons Anaro noticed these things (the way she walked, the way she talked, and how she acted when no one was around) is because he was looking hard enough. He is so desperate to ground Valandil into the dust that he is constantly searching for something to slip; constantly searching for something that he could apprehend him upon. Legolas did not notice these things, perhaps, because he might be a tad too trusting sometimes. I've read that because of this he gets into a lot of trouble in other fanfics, lol. But he is not looking for something to destroy Valandil with. All he really cares about at the moment is the war and helping Valandil convince his father to stop it. That is why, even with his incredible and trained eyes, he doesn't notice these things.

Lynx: That should clear it up.

Legolas: Now just write the chapter!

Haldir: Tsk tsk, impatience.

Lynx: Hee hee, you two guys should check out some of the fanfics… some of the things you do to each other… HAHAHA

Laure: If you ask me that sounded dirty.

Legolas: (looks repulsed) What do you mean by that!

Haldir: … you don't mean… noooo… you wouldn't say such things to us, I know you wouldn't.

Lynx: (sweat drop) He's guilt tripping me again…

* * *

The entire capital of Elvirin was in panic; they had been so since the moment they discovered their precious tauren princess was missing…

Amros paced his study anxiously, his fists clenching and unclenching. This had something to do with the elves… he knew this much.

The door suddenly opened, but Amros did not look up as his eldest child came into the room.

Valandil smiled softly, though his eyes reflected the same exhaustion and worry as his father's.

"Did you search the forests as I requested?" Amros looked at his son briefly before closing his eyes; the look on Valandil's face already provided him with his answer.

"Indeed I did…" Valandil let out a long sigh, worry etched into every crease on his handsome face. "We looked everywhere but the rain destroyed any tracks or traces that would have been there."

Amros echoed his son's sigh, sinking into the chair at his desk.

"There is no other explanation…" Amros whispered, his voice muffled as he held his face with his hands, "The elves must have taken her when we were not looking… she will most likely be used as a device for war."

Valandil stood silently, not really sure of what to say. Crossing his arms over his chest he gave a slight frown.

"I still don't understand why they would take my armour and my sword…"

Amros shrugged slightly, "I have not a clue about anything right now, my son. Perhaps they think they can relinquish our courage by taking away the Prince of War's elements. They see your sword and armour as a status symbol, without it, they believe they can take away the threat you impose on them."

Valandil frowned again; he hated that title and he hated what he had become. All he wanted to do was settle down with his lover and start a family. One day the duty of King would be in his hands and he would have to take on all his father's responsibilities. He would also have to make sure he produced heirs for their realm. Sighing, he turned to leave, "I am going to go make another round about the forest. Perhaps we will be able to find something."

Amros waved him off, heaving another sigh. His thoughts began to overrun his mind the moment the door closed behind his son. How could this happen? His beloved daughter deserved nothing that the elves were sure to give her. He began to feel as if it was his fault. Maybe if he was not so dedicated to this war it would not still be existent and Laure would not have been taken. The two did not leave off on the greatest of terms either...

Valandil was thinking along the same lines as he strode down the sunlit halls of granite and marble. He also did not understand how his horse could have run away the exact same night as his youngest sister was taken. Maybe the elves had taken him too; what an odd bunch of…

A sudden thought occurred in his mind, an impossible thought. He knew of how much Laure despised this war; he knew of how she worried herself sick every time his father and himself went to battle. Perhaps Laure was crazy enough to go attempt stopping the war herself… that explained on some levels his missing belongings and how Lhunor disappeared also. He would not share this thought with anyone, they were distraught enough especially his father. It was an improbable idea anyway; Laure was not that desperate… was she?

* * *

Anaro slept at his desk, his head in his arms. He had fallen asleep late the last night, too annoyed to even think about going to bed. He let out a heavy gust of oxygen, sub-consciously shifting his position in the hard chair.

The door suddenly slammed open, startling Anaro from the world of oblivion. He jumped to his feet, about to turn around and yell at the offender.

"Sir! I've done it!" Renwe's voice sounded excited and triumphant.

"What are you talking about?" Anaro grumbled, dusting his clothes off and smoothing his hair before turning to face his right hand man. An irritated look settled itself onto his sharp features, making Renwe slightly uncomfortable.

"I beg your pardon, sir." Renwe bowed his head slightly, "But Valandil is sure to be ruined once I give this small piece of information."

"Out with it already!" Anaro nearly shouted.

"This person is not Valandil!" Renwe shot quickly, taking a step back. "It's a woman! A tauren female disguised as Valandil!"

Anaro stared at him for a moment, almost as if he though Renwe was merely jesting with him. "You are certain?"

"Yes!" Renwe nodded quickly. "It was definitely a woman! Men do not have curves like that…"

Anaro gave Renwe a disgusted look before he grabbed his silken silver cloak, fastening it onto his broad shoulders. Freeing his silver hair from underneath it, he left the room hastily with Renwe at his heels.

* * *

The sun glared down onto her face from the balcony window, prompting her to wake.

Laure sighed and rolled over, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. Yawning, she threw the covers off of her warm body and got up, stretching. Sniffing slightly, she reached and grabbed her brother's armour before she pulled it onto her torso, tightening the straps at the sides. She then fastened on her black cloak over her shoulders before sitting down and tackling Valandil's boots onto her feet. Silently she wondered how her family was fairing; they most likely discovered her disappearance a few hours after she left. Sighing again, she stood and slipped on Valandil's armlets.

There was a loud knock at the door, almost impatient.

"Who is it?" Laure asked, masking her voice.

"It's Captain Anaro." The call returned.

"I'm coming…" Laure drew in a deep breath, placing her brother's silver circlet on her head before she turned the doorknob.

The door opened, revealing Anaro with four other elves behind him.

"What is it?" Laure gave him a confused look.

"Prince Valandil," Anaro's lips broke out into a smug grin, "You are under arrest."

Baffled, Laure took a step back. "Why? What is going on?"

Two elves stepped forward to grab her arms, but the moment they even touched her, Laure lashed out. She did not like it much when strangers touched her...

"Don't you dare touch me!" Laure growled defensively, sending her fist into the face of the elf to her right and kneeing the other in the stomach.

Anaro's grin was even wider if possible, his eyebrows arching in a challenge. He signaled to the two elves behind him, stepping back slightly.

The first elf through the door gave Laure a quick uppercut, causing her to stumble back. The first two recollected themselves, one with a cut on his forehead and the other with one arm slung across his middle; she was quite strong for a female.

Anaro watched delightedly as another elf grabbed Laure's arm and twisted it behind her back. She gave a shriek of pain and fury before lifting her foot and kicking another approaching elf in the face. The elf angrily returned the favour and punched her in the abdomen; swearing creatively as the metal of her armour served to badly bruise his knuckles.

Laure gasped and doubled over as far as possible, her free arm instantly bracing her middle. The elf behind her pushed her to the floor, placing his foot on her back so she could not get up.

Laure lay still, breathing hard and grimacing as Anaro stepped forward. He knelt down and proceeded to tie her hands behind her back with a strip of heavy rope.

Two elves stepped forward, grasping her elbows and wrenching her onto her feet.

"We are to take you before the King. He will decide your fate." Anaro began to lead the company from the room. "You put up quite a fight."

Laure merely snorted in response as they proceeded to lead her out of the room, their grips firm on her elbows and shoulders. The other two elves simply walked behind them, ready if she should attempt to escape from them.

She noticed one of the elves was carrying her pack from her drawers and Valandil's treasured weapon: his mighty sword.

What was to be her and the war's fate?

* * *

King Thranduil looked up when the throne room doors opened, he shifted in his seat and sat properly from where he was leaning over and speaking quietly with his son.

Legolas followed his father's example and sat back in his chair, watching with interest as the six figures approached.

"It's Captain Anaro, my lord." Lolindir leaned over and whispered in Thranduil's ear.

Anaro approached along the long stretch of narrow green carpet, four elves following closely behind, and two holding a captive.

Legolas' eyebrows shot up when he recognized the person whom they roughly pulled along.

Why was Valandil being apprehended?

"Your majesty…" Anaro stopped ten feet away from his royal majesty and got down onto one knee, bowing his head in respect.

"Anaro." Thranduil nodded his head, "Stand and tell me why you have apprehended Prince Valandil."

Anaro pulled himself back onto both feet and cleared his throat.

Legolas frowned, noticing the tiny stream of blood that dripped from the corner of Laure's mouth. She had her head hung in despair, her jade eyes hidden from his view.

"This, your highness, is not Prince Valandil." Anaro announced with a hint of pride in his voice.

Laure quickly looked up when he said this. How did they know? She dropped her head again, sighing silently.

Thranduil gave a stern look at Anaro, "And how did you discover such a feat? And where is the proof?"

Anaro grinned slightly at this as he turned and stood in front of Laure, drawing his dagger from his sheath. Laure looked at him before standing up tall and solidly with no expression on her face, not even towards the threatening weapon.

Legolas sat forward on his seat slightly, narrowing his cobalt eyes in mild perplexity.

Thranduil raised a single eyebrow as he watched Anaro draw his weapon, no expression appearing on his face at all.

Anaro reached forward and almost carelessly sliced the buckles on Laure's side that held her armour on. He pulled it off her torso and tossed it to the ground a few feet away. Laure gritted her teeth at how disrespectfully he treated her brother's armour. The thought left her mind completely when Anaro sliced open the silver undershirt in one smooth motion, revealing her bare skin and the bandages wound tightly around her chest.

At this time Legolas could barely hold back a gasp of bafflement; his father merely frowning. What in Elbereth's name...!

Anaro stepped aside, allowing the king and prince a view towards the impostor.

"This is no prince, it is a female." Anaro spoke, his voice ringing throughout the entire room.

"To think," Thranduil scowled, addressing Laure now, "I was about to agree on an alliance with an impostor and a liar."

"You would not have listened had it been anyone else but my brother." Laure said, the taste of her blood from her cut lip reaching her tongue.

"So you are a princess of Rhûn?" Thranduil replied nonchalantly, "Which one?"

"The youngest." Laure said as impassively as she could manage, uncomfortable in only bandages before so many males, "I am Princess Laure of Elvirin."

"You are right at least in one aspect." Thranduil sat back in his chair, his scowl still very prominent, "I would not have listened to a woman on the matters of war, especially not one that commits such treason to her own country on a whim."

Laure snarled at this, "This war has long overstayed its welcome. The end must be put to it!"

"A woman has no opinion in such matters." Thranduil spat back. "What could you possibly know about politics and warfare? Toss her into the dungeons, I will think of what to do with her later."

"You are not the king I thought you were!" Laure shouted over her shoulder as once again the group of elves proceeded to drag her from the room. "You condemn yours and my people to death without a second thought! You are nothing but a coward! How dare you call yourself King!"

"Father!" Legolas turned to Thranduil, his voice loud with protest, "Is this necessary?"

"You are young, Legolas," Thranduil did not do so much as to spare his son a glance, "You have much to learn about politics yet."

"At least I possess empathy." Legolas said through his teeth, "She wanted nothing but to save her people. Admit it; you thought unification between the warring regions was a good idea. It would have stopped need for further casualties among the population, it would have brought peace!"

"Silence!" Thranduil spinning quickly to look at Legolas, rage flashing in his silvery-grey eyes, "I will not have accusations and doubts from my own son! This is the way it will be and you will not question me further! Understand?"

Legolas shot up from his seat; "You care about nothing but your pride and reputation! You will not accept the proposition because you were fooled by her! In your eyes your image has been dampened and you will put your own people to death because of this!"

With that, Legolas stormed away, his golden hair flying out behind him as he walked quickly down the same path Anaro had taken to leave.

"Legolas!" Thranduil stood from his seat, enraged.

"My lord, let him go." Lolindir placed his hand on Thranduil's arm. "Sit down and calm yourself."

Thranduil sighed and sat down, brushing stray locks of blond from his face. "He reminds me much of his mother… he certainly has her temper and flare."

"Did he?" Lolindir looked slightly surprised, chuckling despite the tension that was still very noticeable, "In that moment he actually reminded me a lot of you."

* * *

Laure stood still as Anaro untied her hands; "You are brave to stick up for yourself as such."

"A child has that kind of bravery." Laure retorted curtly.

Anaro chuckled as he pushed her into the cell of the seemingly uninhabited dungeon and closed the door.

Laure sighed as he left, laughing to himself. She looked down at the replacement shirt she had been given, tattered and dusty. Hers and Valandil's things hung off a rack just across the way, if only she could reach.

She stuck her arm through the iron bars and reached for her items; they were much too far for her to be able to seize them.

"You'll never reach them," a silky voice snickered softly, "There is no point."

Laure turned her head and searched for the source of the voice. She spotted a figure half hidden in the shadows, sitting in the cell next to her separated merely by more iron bars. His clothes were tattered and wrinkly; his dark hair was matted suggesting he had been there a while. He sat forward slightly, the shadow falling off his face and revealing dark brown eyes that glinted with an almost crimson light.

Laure brought her arm back into her cell, staring at him suspiciously. "Who are you?"

"My name is Caresir," he replied smugly, his voice just soft enough for her to hear, "It's nice to finally have some company down here. What is your name?"

"Laure." Her ears flattened against her head slightly as she went to sit on the small bench. "How long have you been here?"

Caresir shrugged slightly, his eyes glinting, "Maybe nine months or more, lost count after five weeks."

"Pity…" Laure responded with a sad smile, lazily tracing a finger over the armlets on her forearms. "What did you do?"

There was a pause before Caresir decided to answer, "I took someone's life." He left it there, short and simple. "And what did a pretty thing like you do to wind up in here? Besides being a tauren that is. In this place that means automatic apprehension… unless of course you are of high status…"

"I stole someone's identity and stuck my nose in business that wasn't mine to stick my nose in." Laure replied with a long sigh. "Do you think they will kill me?"

"Depends on who you are…" Caresir shrugged again, his voice low and smooth, "I'll tell you a secret though."

Laure looked at him expectantly, silently waiting for him to continue.

Caresir leaned towards her, his forehead resting against a cold bar. "The guard told me yesterday that I am to be executed in a week. If I was of royalty I would not have been in here so long, they would have taken my status and banished me from the kingdom. I suppose that is better than getting the blade, no?"

"I am a princess and they cannot banish someone who does not come from their own region." Laure scoffed matter-of-factly.

"A princess of Rhûn, hmmm?" A ghost of a smile flashed across his face before it melted away again, "Well, I imagine that they will use you in the war to lower the morale of their enemies."

Laure spared him a stern glance before her eyes found their way back to her armlets.

"I will be out of here before that, you can count on it."

* * *

Lynx: (sigh) I hope you guys like it, I worked pretty hard on that.

Legolas: (bites his nails) I would never get mad at my father like that, he would have my head.

Lynx: Well in this story, you do get mat at your father like that, whether he is to have your head or not.

Laure: X3 I kick ass!

Haldir: Yeah! Then have your ass kicked hahah!

Laure: (glares)

Haldir: (backs off)

Lynx: Review please!


	7. Questions and Answers

Lynx: I am back! Back again! To write write write away! This is going to be a short chapter, a filler if you will. FILLERS ROCK MY SOCKS!

Legolas: You are cheesy…

Lynx: …Mmm… cheese… the sexiest milk product on the entire earth…

Legolas: If I was a milk product… I'd be sexiest X3

Lynx: I concur.

Laure: … Idiots…

Lynx: Hey that's a technical foul! TECHNICAL FOUL!

Haldir: I miss saying my disclaimer!

Legolas: X3 Lynx does not own the Lord of the Rings… but rather the original characters.

Haldir: Hey! That's mine to say! (Tackles Legolas)

Lynx: (looks at them wrestling on the floor) XO… Kind of looks like they're making out…

Laure: LYNX! (Smack)

Lynx: Mommy… (Out cold)

* * *

The string of the bow vibrated lightly the moment the arrow was released with a loud twang. It hit its target in exactly the right place. Another arrow flew; whistling threw the wind before it embedded itself right next to its predecessor. 

Legolas took maybe a quarter of a second to examine his aim; the arrows standing proud in the very centre of the wooden target ten yards away. He drew another arrow from his quiver and set it to the bow; faster than lightning the arrow was free. It planted itself right between the first two arrows that he had fired.

His cobalt eyes narrowed slightly when the incident with Captain Anaro and Prince Valandil once again found its way to the very top of his mind. With a frustrated sigh, he shot the target again, splitting his second arrow. Lazily he watched the two pieces clatter noiselessly to the ground.

How could he have been fooled by her? He had nearly three thousand years of experience with his eyes, yet he could not see it. The corner of his lips turned upwards in a slight smirk, sometimes he amazed himself with how much he thought like his father. But no, he would not be like his father, he was different. Reputation was not of the utmost importance in this matter, no, but the survival of this war was.

Questions invaded his mind like a pack of snarling wargs, each scratching at him angrily to be answered. He could not fulfill their wishes though… he could not answer these questions. There was only one person that could… and that was Valandil's impostor… Princess Laure.

Yes, he would take a trip to the dungeons; he would have his questions answered. The conversation they had yesterday popped up in his mind, her explanation of her reason for risking so much to get here… there was much more behind those words than she had originally let on.

"_I fear that my father will come to the end of his reign in Elvirin if this war is not ended."_

He remembered the tone her voice had held, sadness and concern… but most of all, it held the air of foreboding. What had she known that she had not told him? What was wrong with Lord Amros?

Sighing in frustration he lowered his bow after letting his last arrow fly. If something was wrong with Lord Amros, why did Valandil himself not come instead of sending his sister as a fraud? Unless of course Valandil knew naught of the situation…

What in Elbereth's name was going on?

* * *

Silence had smothered the dungeons for the past five hours, allowing Laure a small amount of sleep. She sat awkwardly on her cot, her long legs drawn up so her knees settled against her chest. Her head leaned against the cold wall, her eyes shut lightly as she dozed. 

She awake abruptly to a harsh banging against the cold iron bars. She groggily looked up to see the elven guard slapping the hilt of his sword against the bars to catch her attention.

"What…?" She inquired in annoyance. "I was sleeping…"

"You have a visitor, tauren, I suggest you show some respect." The guard dropped his sword back to his belt and stepped away, disappearing from view.

Laure stretched out her legs and stood to her feet, brushing her auburn locks from her eyes. She immediately recognized the elf standing on the other side of the bars, his arms crossed sternly and his cerulean eyes darkened with his heavy mood.

"Prince Legolas." Laure bowed her head slightly, her eyes never breaking contact with his. "What brings you down here at such a fine hour of this beautiful day?"

"I have a few questions that need to be answered…" He replied bluntly, his eyes looked over at Caresir for a moment, making sure that he was not openly eavesdropping, before returning his gaze to Laure.

"Oh?" Laure stepped forward, resting her hands on the cold bars. "And what questions would those be?"

He too rested his palms on the bars, his gaze intensifying. "Why did you take your brother's identity? If there is such a problem in Rhûn with the war, why are you here in his place?"

Laure chuckled slightly at this, "I thought that would be your first question."

"Then answer it." He said with his normally soft-spoken voice acidic.

Laure kept from wincing and responded softly, "I had no choice… it was either that or let my father die…"

"What do you mean by that?" Legolas raised a dark eyebrow, his voice much softer than before.

Laure sighed, her long eyelashes fluttering slightly as she stared at the floor, "Have you ever had a horribly realistic dream… one that you had every night relentlessly?"

Legolas was silent for a moment before he said anything, "No I don't believe I have…"

"Well I did…" Laure shrugged slightly, "It was almost like a premonition when I think about it…"

"What happened in this dream you speak of?" Legolas asked with mild curiosity.

"You know the battle your warriors are soon to head out towards?" Laure looked up again; "Yes… it was about that battle."

Legolas remained silent, waiting patiently for her to continue. Her jade-green eyes held a look of despair as she was remembering whatever it was she saw in her dream.

"My father…" Laure's eyes began to glisten, "… he died… I saw him die… after saving his own people… I saw him die… by the sword of your father." She bit her lower lip as she forced back the tears. "I fear that that is what may come to pass if this war is not ended…"

Legolas felt his heart become restricted as he felt her fears; he too often felt the same concern for his own father every time they were amidst a break out of war. An awkward air blanketed them as he became confused as to what he should do about the distraught tauren standing before him. She had risked so much for her father; she had risked her life and her name all for him.

"I apologize… I should not be whining like a child." She turned her head away and wiped at her eyes with her sleeve. "To answer your question, my prince, I came because I am desperate to put an end to this war before the war puts an end to my father. My family will not be able to survive if our only parent left gets killed. Not only that, but the courage of my people lies within my father, more so than with the Prince of War. He is our leader, and without him we are lost. The real reason for the war has been lost… so there is no point for it to live on."

"You are noble, Princess." Legolas offered a comforting smile as he laid his warm hand on her arm. "Not many would attempt something so perilous for the well-being of another."

She gave a small grin, "Noble or just a girl with foolish ideals?"

Legolas returned the grin, "You give yourself no credit."

"No, I gave myself a sentence to the dungeons." Laure suddenly looked down, "What's going to happen to me? I am not going to be put to death am I?"

"No I highly doubt that." Legolas frowned, his gold hair glinting in the dim light as he moved his head, "I am not quite sure what my father intends to do with you… though I am positive that he has a good reason for keeping you down here."

"Is he going to use me for the war?"

"Quite possibly…"

"I am I ever going to be freed?"

"… I do not know."

Laure nodded her head in understanding, "Well, you cannot have everything." With that she went and sat back down on her cot, silence ambushing them like a pack of orcs.

"… Anyway, I must be going back to my duties." Legolas stood back from the bars, "Thank you for clearing that up with me."

"You said you had a few questions, you only asked one." Laure replied nonchalantly.

"What you said answered every question I had." Legolas responded, "I will see you soon, Princess."

"Laure." She corrected him.

"Well then I will see you soon, Laure."

"I look forward to it, Legolas."

Legolas nodded and left the dungeons, his light footsteps disappearing quickly. The guard came back in, sending a dangerous glare in Laure's direction. She ignored him and lay down, staring at the dark ceiling of the cell.

"Looks like you have got yourself an infatuation." Caresir's silky voice reached her ears.

"If you think that then you are clearly seeing things." Laure responded impassively, closing her eyes. "I could not possibly be infatuated with someone on the opposite side of war than myself."

"Indeed…" Caresir chuckled before silence once again returned to drown them both.

Soon, Laure drifted off into a deep slumber, unaware that it would be one of her last for a while.

* * *

Lynx: Please review this chapter; I am in major need of some reassurance. 

Laure: What for?

Lynx: I don't know… just review X3.

Legolas: Awww, is Lynxie feeling unloved?

Lynx: XS Not at all!

Legolas: XD (Glomps her)

Lynx: X3

Haldir: DX


	8. To War and Wallow

Lynx: Well I am back for another round of writing! Chapter eight! (Does a little dance)

Legolas: X3

Haldir: (glaring at Legolas) DISCLAIMER: LYNX OWNS ONLY THE STORY AND THE ORIGINAL CHARACTERS! ALL ELSE BELONGS TO J. R. R. TOLKIEN!

Laure: (covers ears) You don't have to yell.

Haldir: Just making sure everyone heard.

Legolas: (sticks tongue out at Haldir)

Laure: XD Well now onto the story before these two rip each other to pieces.

Haldir: Grrr.

Legolas: Guh-rr.

* * *

Dawn was just beginning to surface, lighting the strip of velvet black in the sky, turning it to a vibrant orange. Birds were beginning to wake and twitter their songs into the cold chill of the morning.

Laure received little comfort from the small amount to sunlight that was beginning to seep through the tiny barred window high above her head. She had been in this dungeon now for three days; the dullness alone was enough to torture her. She wrapped her arms around herself tighter, the unmerciful autumn air chilling her right down to her bones. She let out a shuddering breath; the gust appearing as a small wisp of mist that sliced through crispness of the dungeon. Rubbing her hands against her face, she greatly disliked how frozen they felt, thanks to the thin garment the elves had provided her with.

She shivered and looked to her right. Caresir was deeply asleep on his lone cot, his unkempt black hair dangling off the side and touching the dusty floor. He neither shivered nor trembled as if he was right at home, cradled by the thick blanket of invisible ice.

Laure's shoulders quaked slightly, even as she rubbed them in turn. With a sigh, she rested her face into her arms and closed her eyes tightly, wishing sinfully for death.

* * *

The throne room was generally silent, except for the slight whisper of a conversation. King Thranduil sat upon his throne conversing with Lolindir.

"My lord, are you quite certain today is the day you wish to set out?" Lolindir asked with his soft-spoken voice rich in concern.

"Yes, I am quite certain that today is that day." Thranduil replied, smirking almost immorally. "Due to these certain circumstances, now is the best time. We will be able to greatly lower the morale of our enemies; with word that their princess is to be executed they will attack in blind rage." He paused, allowing the scandalous smile to widen; "Then we will take advantage of such a feat, and seize the war for ourselves. If we manage to flush out enough of them, we may be able to attack Elvirin."

"Do you plan to take the princess with you as insurance?" Lolindir wondered aloud, "Will you present her to Amros as proof of her captivity?"

"No… I will present to them the sword of their beloved prince." Thranduil said after some hesitation as he thoughtfully stroked his chin, "Much of their hope lies within that single weapon."

"I see you have this all planned out." Lolindir responded, giving Thranduil a stern glance.

"Of course. I have dreamed of this victory for many a decade." Thranduil said in affirmation, "We will finally receive what is rightfully ours, we will finally eliminate the opposition which has stood in our path for so long."

"…Do you plan to kill them all?" Lolindir suddenly asked after a long moment of silence, "The women? The children? The elderly? Will you slaughter them all?"

"As heartless as this may sound…" Thranduil replied, his eyes staring distractedly at a random pillar amongst the marble exquisiteness, "I do. I have done so before and I plan to do so again. I will not make the same mistake I did last time... this time they will not be able to escape."

"Hmmm…" Lolindir gave no reply.

The door at the opposite end of room suddenly flung open as a figure stepped through.

Thranduil immediately recognized the elf as Captain Anaro.

Anaro halted his brisk pace before Thranduil before dropping to one knee, "Your majesty."

"Rise." Thranduil said with his voice monotone. "What brings you here, Anaro?"

"Your army is ready, my lord." Anaro said as he brought himself to his feet, "All are fed and armed, ready to be at your command."

"Excellent. We shall set out then as soon as possible." Thranduil also rose to his feet, followed closely by Lolindir. "Let us go prepare then."

"Father!" The exclamation immediately captured all three elves' attention.

Legolas strode towards them along the green carpet from the doorway, his cobalt eyes ablaze with fury.

"Ah, my son." Thranduil smiled warmly, opening his arms in salutation, "What brings you here in such a distressed manner?"

"Why did you tell me not of how you are to march to war with Elvirin _today_?" Legolas uttered, his tone held a subdued anger. "The original schedule was four days from now!"

Thranduil sighed in exasperation, "Due to your… feelings… about this situation, Legolas, I did not see it as necessary to inform you."

"My feelings? I am part of your court!" Legolas argued in defense towards the accusation, "You should have informed me anyway."

"Well… now that you mention it." Thranduil looked contemplative for a moment, "The warriors could use your leadership and skill, Legolas."

"No. I will not fight your war." Legolas replied stubbornly, narrowing his eyes slightly, "This is wrong and I will not be a pawn of your game."

Thranduil's steel eyes flashed dangerously, "You dare not oppose me, Legolas."

Lolindir took a small step back, the tempers of the two members of the royal lineage combined was not something one wished to be caught in the crossfire of. Anaro simply watched the exchange with a sleek silver eyebrow raised.

"You will fight for your people." Thranduil stated in a low voice, "Do you wish to be apprehended upon treason?"

Legolas said nothing to this. His father did have a point in that matter. If he refused to represent his kin in this battle, it would be considered treason and aid to the taurens. All underneath him would believe that he was siding with the opposition. His father was impossible… all he really wanted was the reputation of the greatest warlord of Mirkwood.

At Legolas' silence, Thranduil continued sternly, "You have an hour. Get yourself prepared for the battle."

He strode away towards the exit, paying no further heed to his son. Lolindir spared Legolas a sympathetic glance before he followed after his king.

"You have a valiant vision, my prince." Anaro offered before he too pursued the two retreating elves.

Legolas stood for a moment, letting his anger wash away with every second. He knew that he had no choice but to go unless he wished to be exiled, knowing his father was that serious about the topic at hand. The elven prince decided that he would go, oh yes, but he would not touch a single tauren.

He turned on his heel and went to prepare himself for the war, lest he face his father's complete wrath.

* * *

Amros heaved another sigh, his arm falling to his desk in frustration. The other hand raked itself through his thick black hair as worry for his youngest once again consumed him. He hardly looked up at the knock to his study door.

"Come in." His deep voice was emotionless and stony.

He heard the door creak open and then close again. There were two or three footsteps until a hand rested itself on Amros' broad shoulder.

"Father, she will be okay." Valandil's voice reached his ears, "Have faith in her will to live. She will survive and be with us soon. You will see."

"The message from Thranduil we received three days ago…" Amros stared nonchalantly at one of the papers upon his desk. "After declaring the battle four days before schedule, he said that she is to be executed… how is she to survive without a head?"

"Fate will smile down upon us and return Laure to us safely." Valandil reassured him, "Somehow, Laure will find a way to live. She always does."

Amros gave no reply, instead he continued to brood.

"Come, your army is ready. Let us get you into your armour and set out." His son offered in a soft voice laced with empathy.

Amros sighed and complied, standing and heading towards his chambers.

Valandil followed wordlessly after his father. In truth, Valandil did not know if Laure would make it out of this situation alive or not, but no matter what he had to keep hope alive within his father. Valandil silently prayed that the whole ordeal would have a happy ending.

'_Please, Laure, I beg of you. Please stay strong and alive.' _

_

* * *

_

Shouts and commands broke the deafening silence of the dungeons, causing Laure to look up from her silent reverie. The voices were coming from outside; the streams of sunlight from the high window being contorted as many figures marched by.

Laure rose to her feet and stood on her toes upon her cot. She gazed out the barred window, watching as the many elven soldiers tramped towards the gates.

"They are going to war." Caresir's silky voice broke her attention away from the warriors.

Laure looked down at him in his cell to find him lying on his back watching her. "With Elvirin? But that is not for another four days!"

"King Thranduil sent out the order early." Caresir replied simply with a shrug of his lean shoulders.

"And how do you know this for sure?" Laure's ear flattened against her head in agitation.

"I overheard the guards speaking of it yesterday while you slept." The raven-haired elf grinned slightly at this. "They plan to use your captivity against Lord Amros and his troops."

"They cannot prove such a feat to my father, and I know for a fact that they are not taking me with them." Laure replied, her voice steady and sure.

"They already have their proof." Caresir countered her softly.

"What do you mean?" Laure hopped down from her cot.

Wordlessly, Caresir gestured his head towards the rack where prisoners' things were kept.

Laure's eyes followed his and her gaze landed on the pile of her things. She counted the full set of her brother's armour and her small sack of necessities… but there was one thing missing…

"This cannot be!" Laure exclaimed in horror, dashing over to the bars and fruitlessly grasping them, "Valandil's sword! They took it!"

"I believe they plan to present the weapon to Lord Amros." Caresir said quite calmly, "To lower the morale of him and his warriors."

"My people's hope and faith lie within that weapon!" Laure gripped the bars until her knuckles turned white; "It represents the courage and valour of a single tauren! It's a symbol of heroism that any tauren can aspire to possess! Without it…" She dared not finish that sentence.

How could she have been so foolish! So foolish as to carelessly abduct the sword without regard to consequences! Her incompetence thoroughly disgusted her! She could practically name herself a murderer now; she handed her people over to Thranduil on a silver platter decorated with confetti accompanied by a slice of cheese and a glass of wine!

She buried her face into hands in despair; she wouldn't be able to live with herself if word of Elvirin's burning ever reached her ears. It would have been all because of her! All her fault! She could practically see the faces of her family members, each one animated with disappointment and desertion.

She slid to her knees, supporting her upper body against the cold iron bars as sobs of anguish wracked her shoulders.

What had she done?

* * *

Lynx: Phew. So whatcha think? Please review!

Legolas: X3 I am such a rebel.

Haldir: Not to mention an idiot…

Legolas: What was that?

Laure: (sigh)

Haldir: You heard me!

Legolas: Grrr. (chucks script booklet at Haldir and clobbers him in the head)

Haldir: Ow! Lynx! LYNX! Legolas is throwing stuff at me! Make him grow up!

Legolas: I'm not the one that needs to grow up, you ratter. (Chucks brick of cheese)

Lynx: (entranced) ...Cheese… (Grabs and begins eating)

Laure: … Am I the only sane one left?


	9. Mission Impossible

Lynx: Being that it's Sunday and I'm incredibly bored, I have decided to start chapter 9. This is going to be a special chapter so prepare yourself for all the action.

Legolas: Do I do anything hot?

Lynx: Um… when has anything you do not been hot?

Legolas: Good point.

Laure: Don't inflate his head any further.

Legolas: Are you saying I have a large head?

Haldir: Haha…

Laure: Technically speaking.

Legolas: … If you weren't a woman I would have shot you.

Laure: Bring it on, pixie man.

Haldir: Whoot! Go Laure!

Legolas: I hate you, Haldir…

Lynx: XD That's not what you said to him in a fic I just read…

Legolas/Haldir: (repulsed) O GOD! NEVER WITH HIM!

Lynx: XD Anyway, thanks for all your reviews, I'd reply but for some reason won't let me. (Le sigh) Anyway read, enjoy, and then REVIEW!

* * *

No sounds were heard except for the tramping of horseshoes against parched grass and the clanking of armoury on itself.

The soldiers were silent as they marched across the plane along the eastern tail of the Running River.

Valandil let out the breath he hadn't realized he was holding; the doubt hanging above his people's heads was thicker than ice. His dark sea green eyes flickered over to his father who rode to the right of him upon his fine black horse. He could see only a small factor of his father's face, for Amros rode a few steps ahead of him. He could plainly see the anxiety and concern lining the lord's battle-weary face, though.

Valandil was wearing a plain set of armour, having nothing else to resort to taking into consideration that Laure had taken his original set. The weapon he wielded was nothing but an unimpressive blade with a basic design, though it would do well enough to cut down his opposition.

His large ear twitched slightly at the sound of a sigh behind him. He looked briefly over his shoulder to see one of the warriors staring woefully at the sky as he walked. The warrior's white ears drooped and his tail hung limply at his leg, hitting he back of his calves.

"Do not fret." Valandil said to him softly, giving him a soft smile as the warrior brought his attention to the prince, "All will be well, keep faith."

The warrior offered him a half-hearted smile of thanks before dropping his gaze to his feet.

Valandil looked ahead of him again, brushing a few mahogany locks from of his face. The morale of his army was low, the word of the forthcoming execution to their beloved princess taking great tolls on their minds. It was inevitable… the outcome of this battle, but they would not cower like deer during a lightning storm. No… they would battle the elves none-the-less, regain what little honour they had left. It was up to Fate to do the rest, whether she smiled down upon their race or not was yet to be seen…

* * *

Legolas hardly paid attention to his father as Thranduil proceeded to reinstate his strategies for the battle. He fiddled subconsciously with a strand of his mare's mane as he watched a large hawk fly over the army of his father.

How unmoral he deemed this battle, Thranduil was going about it wrong in every way possible.

Laure was righteous; her views were the only ones worthy of contemplation. She had been just to aspire to put an end to the war and all its unnecessary losses. The right path was to form a truce, an alliance, to disregard all thoughts of revenge or conquering, to bring peace amongst both races.

Ironic that the one with the most honourable opinions was the first to be shot down… That was how cruel fate was sometimes… how was that fair? Did the gods above wish for such bloodshed?

Legolas made a silent oath to himself… if he could he would help Laure in her cause. The war was growing old to him, and it no longer had any significance in his life, nor did it have any beneficial results to anyone else's life except maybe his father's…

"Legolas!" A voice hissed his name, grasping his attention away from his thoughts. Cobalt eyes met hard steel-grey eyes and immediately there was flame, "Have you been listening to anything I have said?"

"Yes father." Legolas replied dully, sending him a deadpan look.

"Do you recall what your role in this battle is?" Thranduil narrowed his eyes sternly, clenching a fist in frustration.

"Yes I do father."

"Refresh my memory."

"I am to lead the left flank that way," Legolas pointed a nimble finger south; he only remembered this because his father had recounted his fantasy so many times before; "Box them in."

"Good, you have been paying attention." Thranduil replied steely.

Legolas tuned out once more, maybe catching a few words in between thoughts of his own.

This was to be a long day…

* * *

Laure stared solemnly at the dull dungeon floor, subconsciously gripping the iron bar in which she had her forehead rested against. She had not moved from her spot for a few hours, her mind blank with incomprehension.

… How had she been so foolish as to commit such an act towards her own country…?

She did not look up when footsteps approached her cell; she did not acknowledge the call that accompanied it.

"Did you not hear me?" An angry voice came through her thoughts, "Tauren, I have your evening's meal."

Laure brought her gaze up; staring impassively at the elven sentinel that stood above her at the other side of the bars. He held a small dish over her head, tempting her like she was some sort of wild animal. Laure hardly cared about his intentions but she had not known the taste of food for quite a while. She reached her hand up to take it, but the elf crudely snapped it out of her reach.

"You know no manners." He grinned down at her; he obviously was not a very sharp one…

Laure slowly brought herself to her feet as if it was a tedious job. Her back ached from the many long hours and her legs were numb from sitting in such an odd position.

The elf held it out to her again, his intention obvious: to rip it away from her again the moment she put out her hand to take it. She could see it in his dark eyes…

"What ever is the matter?" The elf waved it in her face, the smell nearly intoxicating her senses.

Laure's thin eyebrows furrowed in growing irritation towards the elf's folly… He did not have a moment to register when she suddenly shot both her arms through the bars and grasped the front of his tunic. He dropped the dish in surprise, letting out a cry of alarm. The call was cut off when she summoned all her might and yanked him towards the bars. His head collided with the hard object with a dull crack and he went limp.

"Idiot…" Laure rolled her eyes as she dropped him to the ground, "Did your captain never teach you to stay out of arm's reach from the captive's cell? Or are you just naturally that stupid…?" Kneeling down, she searched him for the dungeon keys. She made a noise of triumph when her fingers came into contact with the cool bronze. She unhooked them from the guard's belt before casting a longing glance at the food and broken dish. Shrugging, she grabbed the bread and stuffed it into her shirt before standing up with the key ready.

Fumbling with the lock, it took her many long moments until she heard the click. With a smug look, she pushed the door of connected bars open and stepped through. Immediately afterwards, she seized her and her brother's belongings from the rack and headed towards the stairs to the dungeon's exit.

She let out a loud shriek of alarm when a pair of hands suddenly snatched her from behind, causing her to drop all her and her brother's possessions. Once again she felt the coolness of iron bars against her back as a strong arm locked itself around her neck.

"Did you forget something…?" A mellifluous voice whispered in her ear.

Caresir reached idly for the ring of keys still in her hand, but she held it out of his reach.

"Let go." Laure hissed through her clenched teeth, but she could practically hear him smirk at her demand.

"After the company and information I bestowed you with, you have no thoughts to free me as well?" Caresir asked with a mocking tone, his outstretched fingers nearly at their destination. "Tsk, tsk, no kindness at all… what a selfish little vixen…"

"You are a murderer." Laure snarled, secretly spying a flaming torch perched on the wall very near to her. "Why would I help you?" She stretched out her arm and strained to grasp the blackened flank of wood. The very ends of her fingertips touched it, but it was not enough.

"Well then I shall just free myself." Caresir replied stonily, gritting his teeth as his arm flailed to grab the keys from her.

Laure dropped the hand that wielded the keys and finally seized the torch firmly in her left hand.

"Only in your dreams!" Laure stuck the torch angrily into his extended arm, the smell of burnt flesh immediately assaulting her senses.

Caresir let out a roar of agony, falling back from the front of his cell; "You bitch!"

Laure scrambled to pick up Valandil's armour and her pack. "If anything, I'm a female fox, not a female dog." Stuffing the keys into the pack before fleeing from the room, she left the torch burning alone on the stone floor.

Caresir cradled the blackened and bleeding flesh of his arm, his eyes sparking angrily, "I will kill you, girl! I will drive a blade through your heart!"

Laure halted just before the door to the outside corridor, steadying her breathing.

If she were to escape, she would have to do it with great caution. The elves were great in the art of hunting and could hear something amiss from a great distance. If she so much as breathed wrong, it would be back to captivity for her. She took Valandil's armour and stuffed it into her pack. She could not afford to have it clanking around noisily.

Slinging her pack over her shoulder, she deftly pushed the door open. Peeking her head out, she looked down the corridor both ways before stepping out.

Luck had showered down upon her and left the corridor empty, except for the many shadows that were flickering from open torches.

She took a moment to remember which way they had dragged her in. From there she could recall the direction of the gates to the Elven-king's halls. She would not be daft and risk going near the mighty entrance, no; she would simply scale the wall surrounding the palace and take flight. Unfortunately she would not be able to retrieve Lhunor from the stables; the area there was too heavily crowded. She would have to set off on foot…

Laure frowned slightly; she could not take the direct path home, for Thranduil's army now marched upon that same way. She would have to take a detour through the dark forest of Mirkwood, follow the Enchanted River until it took her through the small collection of mountains. Through there she would find and follow the river once again until it became one with the Running River that stretched wide across the planes of Edhel-Dagnir. That she would follow for a long time until it took her to the Sea of Rhûn. Another fifty miles would find her deep in the forest, where she would find the dwelling of Elvirin.

Quietly, she began to tiptoe down the corridor, careful to make no noises. After five minutes of twists and turns, she found herself standing before the majestic throne room. From here she would be able to leave quickly into the fading sunlight.

She set off again, her eyes darting all over the place, searching for a sign of movement around her. Luckily she found none. The halls were practically deserted! The royal family was out at war accompanied by most of the elven males. The she-elves probably sat in their cozy, cottage-like homes, sulking and bawling while holding onto their children.

Laure pushed another set of doors open and found the bright orange sun glaring at her through the thicket of trees. The majority of the sky was a dark grey-blue while the horizon shone in hues of orange, yellow, pink, and red.

She hurriedly descended down the small flight of stairs and steered herself down the path under the lengthy trees. With a quick intake of breath, she ducked behind the large trunk of a tree as a young elf strode by, humming some ancient hymn to herself.

Why did the tree not inform the elf of the escapee hiding in its shadows? Maybe this one was a mute… or maybe… She looked up at it in awe, allowing a thankful smile to spread on her lips. Maybe and hopefully the trees believed in her cause. That was a comforting thought…

Laure sped off again through the lush grass, swerving between the ancient trees. Soon she found herself at the large wall that surrounded the entire premises; it was magnificent and almost intimidating in height.

"How am I going to scale that?" Laure muttered to herself. "It is impossible!"

Her eyes widened as the tree beside her suddenly began to shift. In a matter of moments, the tree's branches had clustered more closely together. Laure's face lit up into a smile; she could climb that! She grabbed the limb above her head and proceeded to ascend upwards. In no time, she was able to shimmy across the branch she was on and lower herself onto the metre-wide width of the wall.

"Thank you, my friend." She patted the tree branch then leapt down from the wall. She landed quite hard on her feet, rolling forward once to absorb the fall. Bringing herself to her feet, she noted that shaking in her legs. What a jump that was! Sighing, she pulled from her pack her velvet cloak and fastened it around her shoulders for warmth. Next she put her hand down her shirt and retrieved the almost stale loaf of bread. She was hungry enough to eat a horse... Taking a small bite from the bread, she began to head south. Within a half-hour she would come across the Forest River…

She just had to hope that nothing would cross her path on her way out…

* * *

Lynx: Another chapter done, I'm on a writing role! Whoooooot!

Legolas: X3 Who knew I was such a sucker for justice?

Laure: (Le sigh)

Haldir: I still think you're an idiot, regardless of your beliefs towards morality.

Legolas: DX The nerve of you, saying that to a prince!

Haldir: Hey I'm important too, I'm March warden!

Legolas: So? I'm gonna be king when the old man decides to ditch.

Laure: … Next thing you know they'll be wearing leather jackets talking like gangsters…

Lynx: Hee hee hee hee! They would be hot in leather! Review please.


	10. Where There's a Will, There's a Way

Laure: (does a little dance) I've reached double digits with my chapter amount! Yay for chapter ten! (And sorry I was on a hiatus, semester turn-around and everything put me off for a bit)

Legolas: Chapter ten? Already? Boy, does time fly…

Haldir: Considering we are elves… no kidding!

Legolas: You are no elf, you horrid, horrid excuse for a living being.

Haldir: Silence, blue-eyes, or I'll accidentally shove this sword down your throat.

Legolas: Try me, tough stuff.

Laure: (sigh) Does the bickering ever end?

Lynx: Nope… anyway. Thanks to all my wonderful reviewers! You guys rock my socks off!

Legolas: I like socks. X3

Haldir: So sock it, pixie man.

Legolas: Bug off, idiot. For one, I am and elf not a man, and for two, you suck!

Haldir: That was rather lame of you…

Legolas: … shut up…

Lynx: (nervous laugh) Oh by the way, Leggy pie, my buddy fluffyrachel says helloooo. She also told me to tell you that she doesn't think you are an idiot.

Legolas: (tears up) Finally someone who doesn't believe that I am an idiot! I must find this fluffyrachel and glomp her to show my thanks. Justice for me! (Wipes away his tears and runs off in a random direction)

Laure: Whoa! Hey! Hello! I don't think you are an idiot… (Pouts as Legolas runs by her) Jeez, I am so ignored… by the way; the reviewers lobby is that way… (Points in opposite direction)

Legolas: … I knew that… (Runs off)

* * *

Artanis scratched her ear in annoyance while anxiety and worry nibbled at her already frayed nerves. Raking a long-fingered hand through her ebony locks, she opened the door to her chamber and left hurriedly, she did not even bother to check her appearance as was usual of her. 

This was horrible! The tension that ran through the remaining people of Elvirin was so thick that if she wanted to she could swim through it. Amros and Valandil had left yesterday for war, leaving Artanis in charge until they returned.

That is if they returned…

Artanis tried to banish all the cynical thoughts from her mind; this was not the time for negativity. Her people needed all the hope and faith that they could get, and she would have to help supply it. With the knowledge that soon one of their princess' was to be killed, their level of hope had been left at close to none.

Artanis remembered the last time she had seen her beloved little sister… the comical smile that had graced her lips and had been reflected upon her own face. She loved her sister dearly; they may have had a few disagreements in the past, a few arguments and clashes of personality, but regardless, she cherished her sister nearly more than anything in the world.

Growing up, it had been hers and Valandil's responsibility to look after Laure, to keep an eye on her and make sure she never got into trouble. The feeling of obligation had more than tripled when the old city of Altarien had been attacked and their mother slain saving her three children from harm. Upon the founding of Elvirin, Amros, having fallen into the deepest of despairs and desperations towards the remaining memories of his beloved, had buried himself in his duties. His duties towards his people were what kept him from remembering… Was it fair that Eresse, his love, had been taken so soon after his dear brother, Amondel, had been slain in battle by his enemy? So busy with his duties, Amros had not the time to care properly for his children, so Valandil and Artanis had taken it upon themselves to take care of the young and innocent Laure, watch over her, teach her, and show her the wrongs and rights of the world around them. Even though they were young in years themselves, only children compared to that of the elder around them, they had been old enough to understand that Amros needed time before he was ready to come back to them.

They patience had been rewarded…

The royal family of Rhûn was a tight group, an eternal circle that never broke…

And now this? Laure's life threatened with execution? Her brother and father risking their lives in war? Artanis left behind to grieve for the future and to worry herself sick?

Why was this happening to them? What had they ever done…?

Artanis laid her hand on the cold granite wall, stopping before the throne room as she buried her face in her other hand. Unshed tears began to assault her vision, threatening to fall if she did not close her eyes.

What would she do were her family members to perish?

She could almost hear the insane, war-stained cackle of the King Thranduil upon disposing of his opposition, free to take what he had been victorious to gain…

Artanis cared not for the ownership of the plains; a simple stretch of scorched blood-stained grassland was not important… no… She cared only for her family, her people…

Laure…

Where was she now to jest with her and make fun of her obsession with appearances?

Where was she now to give her that famous smug look she donned often?

Where was she to look up to her for guidance?

Where was she now to call her 'big sister'?

Where was she now?

"_Big sister! Big sister! Look! I caught one!"_

"_Wow, 'Re-re, that's a big one." Artanis grinned broadly, clapping together her hands at the hysterical look of victory on Laure's little face. _

_Today, Valandil was having his first lesson at archery, and Amros had once again disappeared to engross himself in his duties. Artanis had taken her kid-sister outside to hunt bugs, an activity she did not much enjoy herself, unlike Laure who was beginning to reflect the early signs of a tomboy. Artanis may not have shared the interest, but she loved watching her baby sister run around the garden on her short little legs trying to catch these little insects that hid amongst the greenery._

_Laure gazed at the small green creature in her tiny hands, smiling toothily with triumph and wonder. She hobbled over to her lounging older sister, proudly presenting her with the 'trophy'._

_Artanis looked at the grasshopper, not really keen on taking it, so instead she came up with a better idea._

"_Listen, 'Re-re, I'm hungry." Artanis ruffled her sister's messy mahogany tresses, "Why don't we go down to the kitchens and sneak some blueberry pastries?"_

_Laure's eyes lit up in delight; she dropped the grasshopper, forgetting completely about her little game. "Blueberry pastries are the best!"_

_Artanis grinned and stood up, being nearly double little Laure's toddler height. She took her sister's hand and began to lead her from the gardens._

_After a moment, Laure spoke up in a cute, questioning voice; "Big sister? What does 'love' mean?"_

_Artanis was a bit taken aback by the sudden question, but smiled softly at the aura of innocence and purity that surrounded the bundle of light that was her sister. "Why do you ask?"_

"'_Cause I always hear you, Val, and papa saying it…"_

_After a moment of thinking of the rights words to use to describe it, Artanis replied, her black fox ears flattening slightly. "Love? It's the feeling you have when you…well, when you care about someone. Yes, when you care about someone a lot…"_

"_Really?" Laure stared up at her with wonder before a big smile came onto her face. "That means that I love_ **you**_, big sister!"_

_Artanis beamed amiably, stopping mid-walk so she could bend down and hug Laure tightly._

"_I love you too, 'Re-re. I love you a lot and don't you ever forget it."_

"My lady…?" The call drew Artanis from her reverie; looking up between her fingers, her eyes fell upon the lithe form of Tari, her sister's good friend.

"Ah, Tari," Artanis hastily wiped the tears from her face, "What brings you to the throne room?"

Tari did not respond immediately; the timid girl looked disturbed and upset, even a little ashamed. She hung her head slightly, her snow-white ears drooping in disgrace.

"What is wrong?" Artanis ducked her head slightly so she could see the shorter tauren's eyes.

"I… have to tell you something…" Tari said, her voice almost a whisper, "And I am shamed that I did not tell you sooner…"

"What is it?" Artanis raised an eyebrow in confusion; what could possibly be so important? Unless it had something to do with Laure…

"I… well…" Tari looked embarrassed and disappointed with herself. "Well… the night Laure disappeared…"

Artanis immediately froze with her eyes wide; Tari had known something and had not told anyone?

"Tell me everything." Artanis gently grasped the mortified girl by the arm and pulled her into the throne room that no one else occupied. Closing the large, magnificent doors, Artanis turned her gaze back to Tari who was staring at her with large sea green eyes; the tauren looked as if she expected reprimanding.

"Please tell me." Artanis said with an air of pleading in her usually complacent voice.

Tari drew in a breath, "The elves did not take Laure like everyone believes…"

Artanis looked at her with confusion, "But how is that so? How do you know?"

"… She was leaving on her own will, leaving because she believed she could put an end to the war." Tari slid a hand down her face, looking more worn than her young age should have allowed.

"What!" Artanis shook her head, her upper lip rising and her brow furrowing in a look of angry bewilderment.

"I ran into her on her way to the stables." Tari continued, looking frightened, "She had with her Prince Valandil's armour and sword, she even took his horse… she was going to impersonate him in order to negotiate with King Thranduil…"

"Why have you told no one sooner?" Artanis seized her by her slim shoulders, shaking her less than gently.

"She told me not to!" Tari wailed in distress, throwing her hands over her head, "I could not hold it inside of me any longer! It is my fault she is to be executed! She is going to die because of me!"

Artanis abruptly stopped shaking her, her livid expression slowly softening. "I am sorry… I… I did not mean to overreact." She let go and dusted off the tauren's shoulders, looking slightly ashamed of herself.

"… I should have told sooner." Tari reasoned timidly, "… I am sorry also…"

"Although there is nothing we can do with that information now…" Artanis sighed, rubbing her hands together, "It would do nothing for father and Valandil and cannot be brought to them in time… nor would it change the outcome of the battle…"

At that, Tari looked even more mortified. Artanis gave her a gentle look, "It is not your fault, Tari. It is good that you told me, because if something happens at least we will know the truth. If anything I am to blame because I did not stop my sister the night she left." Artanis brushed back a stray ebony lock, a faraway look taking residence in her silver-grey eyes; "I should have seen through her façade… I was always able to, why not that night out of so many? Archery practice, my foot…"

Tari looked down at her hands as she replied, "I have faith in Laure and I am sure she will be able to pull out of this… she always does. She is strong, she will survive."

"You're right… I must have faith…" Artanis nodded once in agreement, "Laure will be fine."

"Besides," Tari continued, "If you were not able to sense it that one night out of many, maybe that means that this is Fate's will. Perhaps some good will come out of this after all."

"Again, you're right." Artanis drew in a deep, calming breath, "Maybe Laure will be the one to shape our future."

* * *

The company was silent; one would find more noise in a deserted graveyard. No one moved; no one talked; no one did anything but stare at the slight dust rising on the bright horizon. 

Valandil's expression was hard and impassive; war was a province that allowed no thought of compassion or yielding. His jade eyes were dark and shaded, the same look reflected in the face of his father. Amros sat to his right upon the broad back of his horse, sub-consciously clutching the handle of his weapon. There was a numbing sort of tingling eating away at his stomach; the pre-battle jitters, knowing that soon he would either have to take life or have his life taken.

Amros spared his son a glance; despite the situation he could not help but feel the pride swell within him. His son was a fine warrior; that was for sure. Valandil would be a great ruler when Amros' time came to pass, he would defend the country valiantly and keep safe all that was held dear. He returned his attention to the horizon; from where he and his company waited, they could see Thranduil's army approaching slowly like a bad omen.

Did they have Laure with them? Or had they already killed her… At that thought, a very familiar feeling hit him hard in the chest, the same feeling he had experienced after Eresse was killed. Laure could not be dead… no, she had too strong of a will to live. That was at least what his heart told him, but his mind spoke differently, saying not to get his hopes up lest he be disappointed…

A shroud of despair began to overcome him as he watched Thranduil signal for his army to halt less than fifty metres away from where his own army was situated. From the corner of his eye he saw Valandil raise his hand very slightly. Immediately the soldiers in the army put themselves into their battle stances, professional looking and intense.

"Father," Valandil gestured his head forward slightly before nudging his horse into a decent pace towards Thranduil. Amros nodded in agreement and copied his son's actions, noting that Thranduil had decided to come forth also, followed closely by another.

That was odd. The elf-prince did not often come to battle, he had only done so once before but that had been a while ago. Why the sudden change? Peculiar indeed… Did Thranduil foresee the battle's outcome different than any of those before? Most likely… a lot more was at stake now than ever…

The two parties met halfway, stopping a mere five feet apart. It was silent for a few moments after they dismounted before someone decided it was time to speak.

"Lord Amros." Thranduil inclined his head slightly, a smirk faintly visible on his lips. "Ah and Prince Valandil; I had never seen you up close before… my, you look like your sister." The elven-king's eyes flashed with mocking.

Valandil merely stared at him, his emerald eyes narrowed.

"Tell me, Thranduil, why have you decided to make your son present this time?" Amros voiced the question that had been eating at him. At his mentioning, the young blonde elf brought his cobalt eyes up to meet his.

"What do you mean?" Thranduil gave him an inquisitive look, "Legolas is my country's pride and has attended nearly every battle we have come to." He then added an afterthought, his eyes glinting maliciously. "You just never see him because he often leads the soldiers included in the surprise attack."

At this, Amros said nothing in response.

"Well, any negotiations to be had? Or perhaps final wishes?" Thranduil enquired smoothly, cool confidence leaking from every pore on his skin.

"No." Valandil replied, his tawny ears pressing against his head in irritation towards the king's arrogance and self-confidence. The blonds were about to turn back to their horses when Valandil suddenly spoke again, "But I do have a proposition for you to contemplate."

"What sort of proposition?" Thranduil raised a silver-blond eyebrow with interest.

"A proposition?" Amros hissed at Valandil under his breath, seizing one of his shoulders in an excruciatingly tight grip.

"Trust me, father." Valandil gave him an earnest look as he twisted his father's grip loose. Amros gazed intently at him for a moment before sighing and releasing him, allowing his son to continue.

"The proposition is very simple and will avoid the unnecessary death toll we were about to undergo."

"Go on." Thranduil said after Valandil paused, "You've caught my curiosity."

"Instead of fighting here today and spilling another hundred pints of blood on these already stained grounds, why do we not solve this the easy way?" Valandil's eyes sparked with seriousness, "Return Princess Laure to us and we will relinquish these plains to you."

Thranduil looked at him for a long moment before he suddenly burst out laughing. "Are you serious? You are really naïve enough to believe I am only herein for the plains?" He chuckled again, "I plan to take over your country, Valandil, not just the plains! Have you not known that? By Elbereth, I thought it was obvious!" Thranduil leaned back and allowed himself a devious smile, "With the victory and extension of my kingdom, Mirkwood will once again be known as Greenwood the Great! We will no longer have to fear our enemies or hide amongst our trees and I will be known as the greatest elven-king in existence!"

Amros scowled angrily while Valandil merely watched him with disdain.

"You witless, self-absorbed tyrant!" Amros barked with rage, his dark eyes flashing furiously, "You think this merely a game of chess?"

"Watch your tongue, tauren." Thranduil' upper lip curled slightly as he drew his blade threateningly.

Amros ignored his threat, "You're not a king! You're a fool!"

Thranduil gave an infuriated growl and launched at him, "I'll kill you right here!"

"Ada, no!" Legolas shouted, leaping forward and preventing him from going any closer to the two tauren rulers. "Consider what Valandil has offered! We need not spend the lives of our soldiers for such an irrelevant cause!"

"Legolas, you know as little of war as that tauren princess." Thranduil hissed dangerously, pressing slightly against Legolas' firm hold. "It's either conquer or be conquered. That wench must have instilled her foolish optimism and ideals upon you! This is war; much must be sacrificed!"

"That is not true!" Legolas countered. "Can you not see, ada? You are slowly turning your own people against you with your thirst for power and renown! Why can you not be content with what you already possess? You already have a powerful kingdom and a great reputation! Salvage what nobility and pride you have left!"

"Silence!" Thranduil roared, his fist swiftly connecting with Legolas' jaw. The prince stumbled back a step or two, momentarily stunned. "Do not speak as if you know what it is you speak of!"

Legolas brought his sleeve up to his mouth, brushing away the bright crimson blood that suddenly appeared there.

"What will it take for you to return Laure to us?" Valandil exclaimed, his eyes pleading and desperate.

Thranduil slowly turned his head to look at him, smirking; "What will it take? Dear Valandil… Do you not learn?"

"Is it Elvirin you want?" Valandil asked, his father blanching in surprise.

"Well… I suppose you could say that." Thranduil shrugged, sheathing his sword as his temper died.

"Fine," Valandil set his jaw, a look of impassiveness blanketing his features. "You restore Laure to us unharmed, and we will surrender the city to you."

"Valandil?" Amros suddenly cried out in alarm, "Have you gone mad!"

"The city is worth nothing compared to my little sister!" Valandil shouted back fiercely, "You of all people should realize this!"

Amros became silent, knowing that Valandil was right; Laure was much more important than some city that could be rebuilt someplace else…

"Hmm…" Thranduil thoughtfully smoothed his silver blond hair to his head. "Not a bad idea…" From there he could slowly dominate the rest of Rhûn… "Then it is a bargain!"

"But first you must return to us Laure unharmed." Valandil added carefully, "Only then will we forfeit Elvirin."

"So be it." Thranduil nodded in agreement, "I shall see to it that it is done. No blood will be shed tonight. My company and I will bring the princess to your city this day next week." Maybe he wouldn't have to brandish Valandil's precious weapon in their faces this time… oh well, there was always the next battle…

Valandil bowed his head then turned to his father as Thranduil spun around on his heel, grabbing Legolas roughly by the arm and half-dragging him to the horses. The elf-prince sharply jerked his arm from the warlord's grasp and mounted his horse, his cobalt eyes flaming with annoyance.

The taurens watched as the blond pair rode silently away, ready to take their army back to Mirkwood.

"I feel bad for Prince Legolas." Valandil suddenly voiced, "All he has is good intentions for his father and his people and all he receives in return is a blow to the face…"

"Thranduil is a fool, that's why." Amros responded darkly, bringing his gaze back to his son, "He will not realize what he has until he loses it. Come; let us return to Elvirin…"

"Father, I am sorry about my decision, but I felt I had no choice." Valandil stared at the ground in shame as they lead their horses back to their soldiers.

"You think I would have let you proceed had I not agreed with you?" Amros spared him a half-hearted smile. "Laure is my daughter; I would choose her over the richest pile of treasure or the greatest amount of glory."

Valandil smiled softly at him in return. "As would I…" He looked over his shoulder as they reached their fellow warriors, watching the dust rise once again as the legions of elves began to head back to their trees.

He heaved a noiseless sigh, suddenly feeling much better. They would lose Elvirin… but at least Laure would be safe.

* * *

Laure stopped for a short break, settling herself onto a large root that jutted out of the moss-covered ground rather randomly. The sun was low, hidden behind the dark shroud of trees that shadowed her head; it must have been the early evening, only an hour or so since she lift the palace. 

Usually forests were beautiful and alleviating, with birds chirping and the leaves sparkling like the greenery back home, but no. This forest was cold… terrifyingly magnificent and overrun by shadows and strange sounds. The trees were gnarled into peculiar shapes and the forest floor was naught but moss, dirt, and sinister looking roots. The air was close… so close that it was moist and almost suffocating.

Laure sighed, leaning back slightly against the smooth gnarl of an ancient tree trunk. She looked around for any other signs of life other than herself. There were none, it was almost deathly silent except for the occasional rustling or stirring amongst the foliage. The trees were especially silent, not social like the trees within the confines of the elven palace. But who in their right mind would live within such a god-forsaken heap of trees?

Rubbing her leg, Laure blew a stray lock of hair from her face. About ten minutes ago, her foot had gone through an invisible pothole in front of a well-placed root, earning her quite a number of scratches a bruises considering that she had fallen rather heavily. She did not want to admit it, but she was tired… tired and scared. She had not had a decent sleep since the night before that blasted Anaro had incarcerated her… Maybe she should take a quick nap, it is not like anything is going to saunter by and eat her while she is sleeping.

Deciding that it was a good idea to sleep and regain strength for the journey, she perched herself in between two large roots comfortably. After checking for any hiding bugs and becoming satisfied, she lay down and fell asleep almost immediately, the day's events taking their toll on her.

* * *

It was a few hours until the elves came upon the gates to the elven-king's halls, feeling quite victorious and successful with their new gain. 

The people of Rhûn would never know what hit them…

"Hail King Thranduil!" The shout from above came just before the gates began to open. "The King returns!"

Legolas stared irately at his father's back as they rode through the majestic gates, the elven soldiers behind them chattering animatedly amongst themselves and hurrying off to greet loved ones.

Thranduil waited until the crowd died and the elves filed away to continue with their day's duties before signaling to Legolas. Out of the corner of his eye, the elven prince saw his father's hand go up, two fingers simply gesturing forward. Nonchalantly, Legolas complied and approached his father, leading his horse along with him.

"I am disappointed in you, Legolas." Thranduil sighed, turning to face his only son, "I thought I had taught you better than that."

"Spare me the lecture, father." Legolas retorted calmly, "Do not attempt to reprimand me as if I was an elfling. I have no regrets and I dare say that I am as stubborn as you: my thoughts will not change on this matter."

Thranduil simply stared at him, unsure of whether to be proud of his son's excellent self-assurance or whether to smack him for crossing his word.

"You no longer have my support in this affair." Legolas added objectively, shaking his head as if to prove his point.

"I see..." Thranduil's eyebrows furrowed slightly in displeasure, "We shall council on this problem later; I am going to go speak to the tauren princess." He added before Legolas could leave, "You are going to accompany me."

"Very well then..." Legolas consented and proceeded to follow his father into the palace, thanking the stable boy as he advanced to care for their horses.

Tailing his father towards the dungeons, Legolas allowed himself a tired sigh. He disliked being on such terms with his father, but he was sick of being the King's pawn in war. It was time he voiced his own opinions and defended what he believed in. He felt ill every time he thought of the taurens he had felled during the many previous battles, innocent, undeserving people that fought to protect their name and place in the world. Was that fair? The elves fought for power and supremacy and the taurens for self-preservation and for the sake of their country… why were the elves the ones to receive victory over the nobler of the two warring nations?

Legolas stepped down the steps after Thranduil and entered the silent and eerie dungeons. He felt bad for any poor soul that had to reside in such a horrible place…

"Blazes! What has happened here?" Thranduil shouted angrily as they came across the unsightly scene. The sentinel lay on the ground before them, dried blood caked and matted to a wound upon his forehead. The door to the cell before him stood ajar, the space inside empty and looking like it had never been occupied.

Legolas rushed past his father and dropped to his knees before the guard on the floor, checking to make sure he was alive.

"He is alive." Legolas breathed in relief to no one in particular as he lifted the guard's eyelid, watching how the pupil reacted, "He has a concussion, though, he should be brought to the healing wing immediately." Legolas looked over his shoulder at his father, slightly disconcerted by the rage emanating from Thranduil's body.

"A-ada?" Legolas solicited uncertainly, his cobalt eyes somewhat widened.

"That… that tauren princess…" Thranduil forced the words between his gritted teeth, his fists clenched at his sides. "She is jeopardizing everything I have just gained!"

"It was maybe four hours ago…" A silky voice sounded from seemingly no where.

Legolas slowly turned his head to face the pair of glowing blood-shot eyes residing in the shadows of the next cell closest to them. The setting sun from the high windows only served to reveal the lower half of the person's body, his face and torso still masked by darkness. Legolas looked at the pair of arms that sat upon the stranger's lap, one hand clasping his arm that accommodated an ugly looking burn. The skin around the large burn was black and purple with many odd blood stains here and there; a yellow substance leaked out of the penetrated skin and bubbled grotesquely, causing Legolas to wince unintentionally at the sight.

"She knocked out the guard and unlocked the cell before grabbing her things and fleeing." The elf's dark eyes glinted dangerously as their owner spoke slowly, "She can't have gone far."

Thranduil narrowed his silver-grey eyes in anger, "The bloody wench…"

Legolas pulled himself to his feet, his eyes darting between the prisoner and his father as he waited for someone to talk. After a few moments when no one spoke, he decided to break the silence.

"What action are you going to take, ada?" Legolas enquired tentatively, his father's narrowed eyes now turning on him in an instant.

"I am going to send out a squadron of our best to hunt her down and return her to captivity." Thranduil replied after a moment's thought, "I cannot let her risk the loss of Elvirin; she is our leverage."

Legolas frowned slightly, but said nothing more about it, "I shall send for the healers." He turned to leave.

"No, I will handle that." Thranduil suddenly smirked rather peculiarly in the dawning of an idea as Legolas looked upon him in mild confusion. "You, my dear son… you are one of my greatest warriors, and you are a great hunter as well… I would say you are the best there is here."

"Where is this leading?" Legolas knew the answer to the question before it even fell past his lips.

"You repentance for today's little incident relies upon whether you can track the tauren princess down and return her to this dungeon." Thranduil crossed his arms indignantly, rather pleased with how things turned out despite the risk to his plans.

Legolas scowled in disagreement, but made no complaints. His father's mind was set and there was no way to challenge his word and win after the king had made a decision, he was simply too stubborn.

"Now I suggest you go and gather the necessities for your trip, Legolas." Thranduil moved out of the way of the exit to the dungeons, gesturing very slightly with his hand. He raised a single silver-blond eyebrow at Legolas, observing the prince's reaction to such a task.

"Very well then…" Legolas nodded his head slightly at the challenge; if this was how it was to be, so be it… He glanced one last time at the unsettlingly mysterious prisoner before going back up the stairs and leaving the dungeons without another word.

What would he do once he actually found Princess Laure? He did not know why but he felt as if it was a betrayal on his behalf… To make himself feel better, he tried to convince himself that she was the opposition. He and Laure were enemies, so he should not have any hesitations of any sort about apprehending her, but no matter how much he told himself this as he gathered his things, he could not bring himself to believe it. What would he do? Refuse to hunt her down and get disowned upon treason? His father was probably that determined, too… He also had to ask himself why he felt bad about such a simple task... Well, the only plausible explanation was that he believed in her cause. Yes, that was it. He simple agreed with her views of the war, and that it had to be stopped before a whole nation was destroyed. How this was going to be achieved was a mystery, but where there's a will there's a way.

Nothing was impossible.

Sighing he tied the small pack of healing supplies onto his back before he took his weapons down from their rightful place. He didn't think he'd really need them, but one can never be too precautious this day and age. Every time he went out on some errand on his own or with a small group, something always happened to him, so it was a good idea to take them.

He shoved his sheathed dagger into his belt and slid a knife into the side of his boot. Satisfied, he fastened his dark green cloak around his neck and shoulders before strapping his full quiver onto his back and also his dual white knives.

He took a long, calming breath, determined to figure out whatever it was that he had to do after he found her, and then he would think about the consequences afterwards.

Right now, his first priority was finding Princess Laure.

* * *

Lynx: Sorry for the wait guys, if indeed you were waiting at all, but semester change through me off biiiig time. I finally got around to it so here is the result! I hope you enjoyed it! I appreciate donations in the form of reviews! Hint hint. 

Legolas: (still off glomping random people who don't think he's an idiot)

Laure: (pouting)

Haldir: (playing with a Legolas voodoo doll) I think I'll stick a pin here, and here, and oh yesss, definitely here.

Lynx: Okayyyyy… RUN! (Runs off into the horizon flailing her arms and screaming like a madwoman)

Laure: (sigh) Still the only sane one.


	11. Of Forests and Phobias

Lynx: Holy crap! It seems like forever since I've last updated this baby! Well then my readers (if indeed you are still my readers, not having lost interest after my little hiatus…) I will apologize humbly for the interruption of updates. I've been really tied down with other things lately, such as school beginning and the whole bit. I hope you guys can forgive me and find it in your hearts to read this chapter… what am I saying…? … READ THE CHAPTER!! RAWWRRR!!

Legolas: (cowers away behind Haldir who is cowering behind Laure) She is frightening…

Haldir: (cowering away behind Laure) Agreed…

Laure: … Men are such cowards… (rolls eyes)

Lynx: (hisses at the three) I can't threaten people properly when you three are blabbering away behind my back! SO SHUT UP!! RAWR!

Legolas/Laure/Haldir: (take three steps back)

Laure: (goes and hides behind Legolas)

Haldir: So much for men being the cowards… (glares at Laure but backs off when Lynx gives him the laser eye glare)

Lynx: Now is anyone going to give my disclaimer? Anyone? ANYONE!!??

Legolas: (shakes head vigourously and points at Haldir)

Haldir: Betrayer… (Glare) … fine I'll do it… Disclaimer: the usual nonsense about Lynx not owning the property of J.R.R. Tolkien and blah blah blah… Can I have my tea and crumpets now?

Lynx: RAWR!!

(and if you did not figure already, this story takes place **_before_** the War of the Ring, quite a few years prior actually…)

* * *

Intense silver-grey eyes watched lazily as the dark red liquid sloshed back and forth inside the crystal glass sparkling in the spotted rays of sunlight. Powerful lips thinned slightly in deep thought, the slight breeze going unnoticed as it combed through fine blond hair and thick foliage of leaves and grass. 

The glass was raised, the perfectly smooth edge bracing his bottom lip as he tipped the wine lightly into his mouth. Settling his arm back down upon the marble rail to rest beside his other, Thranduil did not swallow immediately; rather he chose to savour the taste for a moment's time.

His hard eyes squinted discreetly as they stopped to follow a figure below, his throat constricting to take down the cool liquid. A small smirk spread on his lips, the figure a blatant reminder of his forthcoming conquering of his opposition… his nemesis…

Amros… _Lord_ Amros… the title almost made Thranduil want to laugh. Such a soft-hearted fool did not deserve such an honourable title… Titles as such were reserved for the cunning and the worthy, for those with rational minds and no room for petty compassion. Compassion was for the weak… Compassion was for the cowards unable to attain their goals.

Thranduil had no use for such trivial things as compassion. As a warlord and a king, he needed to be ruthless and powerful; he needed to make sure that no one would dare challenge his place. Such a way of living would also secure a good future for Legolas as king. He would be known as the son of the great King Thranduil, as he himself had been known as the son of the great King Oropher until he had harvested his own reputation.

Amros was inadequate and his son, the almighty Prince of War, would soon follow in his father's flimsy steps.

Rhûn will fall at his feet…

Thranduil could not help his grin from growing as cobalt blue eyes, intense as his own, flickered up to meet his. Taking another delicate sip of his wine, Thranduil sat back on his heels upon his bedroom balcony and watched as his only son stared up at him resentfully from his position before the gates to Mirkwood Palace.

'Yes…' Thranduil thought to himself smugly, the taste of fine wine still fresh upon his tongue, 'Rhûn will fall…'

* * *

It was not but five minutes later following his brief preparation did Legolas find himself before the grand gates, waiting with baited breath. 

This was wrong… so mortifyingly wrong that it tore at his heart and left a nauseous feeling to his stomach in its wake…

Subconsciously, he felt a strong gaze upon his back, forcing him to turn his head and look over his shoulder. He searched and found the source of his unsettling feeling… Through the slight shield of leaves from the trees growing around the intertwining paths, he spotted the shadowed silhouette of his father. The king was observing him from his bedroom balcony, taking a mental note of his actions and body language.

He locked gazes with Thranduil, intent on seeming confident and not willing to lose in this silent war. Thranduil stared back nonchalantly, his silver-grey eyes evident even at such a great distance between them. Legolas saw the smug grin on his face widen half a centimeter and felt himself dishearten.

He was going to lose… and he knew it…

With a subtle sigh, the prince turned his back to his father and faced the open gates before him.

He was going to lose for sure… but he was not going to simply give up and admit it.

No… he was going to give his greatest resistance and go out with pride.

That was one thing his father could not take away from him.

Legolas set his jaw firmly, his sapphire eyes darkening in determination. Brushing away a stray lock of gold hair tamed by the wind, he pushed off with his toes into a brisk pace through the iron gates, intent on proving himself to his unseeing father.

* * *

Thranduil let his smirk fade into the rim of his wineglass as he watched Legolas leave, the iron splendor of the gates swinging slowly shut after him. 

He could not help the swell of pride from deep within him after seeing what a fine elf his son had become through his many years. Though still young, Legolas was mature far beyond his years and always had been. He was ambitious and righteous, an honourable and fair being. Ever since he was an elfling, Thranduil had been there to witness him excel in everything that had been thrown at him, from historical education and literature to horseback riding and archery. If he had not done greater than average at something, Legolas had pushed himself to guarantee that he went over the charts.

The only area Legolas ever lacked in was properness and etiquette. Though elegant and princely, the elf had always been a trouble-maker and a prankster and there was no help from Elrond's twins from Rivendell. Elladan and Elrohir had always been influencing the younger elf since before Thranduil could remember. That and add the human foster-son Estel to the package, equal in his rights to trouble-making and pranks.

Thranduil let a fond smile grace his expression as he recalled every lecture he and Elrond had given the four young menaces.

And now, watching Legolas exhibit everything in a prince that could be required and hoped for, it made way for a bright future for Mirkwood.

'Legolas would make a fine king…' Concluded Thranduil, 'A fine king indeed…

* * *

Legolas fought his very hardest to elude the feeling of foreboding as he heard the soft clank of iron behind him, the sentinels securing the gates shut. He forced himself to not turn back and only slowed his pace to observe the mossy dirt-covered forest floor for tracks. 

Knowing very well that the tauren princess was not nearly dim-witted enough to choose the main entrance as her getaway, Legolas turned left on his heel and began to make his way around the vast perimeter.

The prince moved at a gradual but fair speed, his eyes scanning over and observing the ground for tracks or marks that looked recent. He kept his keen elven senses alert on his surroundings; Mirkwood forest was dangerous… he had to keep up his guard.

Staying a good metre from the magnificent wall of solid rock, he continued around for what seemed like hours. The routine that had been repeating itself every minute or so was almost to the point of becoming permanently embedded in his mind: scan the ground, stop, look around, continue walking, repeat…

He sighed soundlessly and stopped walking completely, finding himself standing at the southern segment of the wall. Looking around quickly once more, he put a foot forward to begin his mechanical walking once more before something caught his eye. At last a break!

Imprinted firmly in the soft moss not a few inches from him, were two footprints, side by side and deep.

'She must have jumped from the wall and landed here…' Legolas squatted down next to the prints, gingerly touching one of the rims. 'Four… five hours ago…?' Tracing with his eyes, there was a metre of flattened moss, testimony to her rolling.

But what caught his attention next to the prints she left when standing, were small, almost invisible specks of yellow-white. His brow furrowing slightly, he leaned over and caught one of the sparse specks between his thumb and index finger. Bringing it before his face to identify it, he almost smirked.

She was leaving him a trail of bread crumbs… Literally!

Legolas flicked the crumb to the side and brought himself back to his full height. There was a thin, nearly undetectable trail of bread crumbs in the direction in which she had gone. She must have been quite hungry.

Ensuring there were no other tracks going in any other directions, the elven prince began to follow the trail through the underbrush.

With any luck, it would be a while before the crumb-path disappeared altogether and he was left searching again.

* * *

There was no sunlight, no wind, and no sound of chirping birds. The forest was still and silent as death itself… 

Laure could not help the gloom that consumed her quickly after spending a few hours in such a dark, eerie place where the air felt so close that it could suffocate her. So far she had not had any unpleasant visits from any forest-dwelling creatures, so she had that small factor to be grateful for because she had no weapons to defend herself with. She had no food or drink, which made her all the more glad she was heading for a river.

On top of all that, she was more tired than she could ever remember being in her life. Decent sleep had evaded her for the past few days and it was really starting to take its toll on her. The small rest she had attempted to take three hours ago did not go as well as planned when she kept startling herself awake every five or ten minutes, afraid that something might jump from the shadows to attack her.

She rubbed her eyes with the sides of her hands sluggishly, clearing the fog and forcing herself to become alert. She was not familiar with the forest of Mirkwood therefore anything was possible; she needed to be careful.

Sighing deeply, the tauren pushed the thought of sleep to the back of her head; thinking about such blissful things would only make situations worse for her. Next to her sigh, the forest became silent again next to the faint churning and babbling of water...

Wait…

Water?!

Laure's ears perked up at the blissful sound, her shoulders straightening. The delightful sound compelled her to walk faster, knowing she was very close to Forest River.

Within minutes she reached her destination, the sight of the sparkling water filling her with glee. She rushed forward over the grassy bank and dropped to her knees where the clear water lapped at the shore as it flowed on by, immediately dipping her hands into the cool liquid. Cupping her hands together she leaned forward and brought some of the heavenly substance to her lips. She took in a few gulps and returned her hands to retrieve some more.

Slowly, she could feel the parching in her mouth leave, along with that disgusting, metallic taste. She sat back after drinking her fill, her saliva no longer thick and hard to swallow and her lips not as chapped. Heaving a content sigh, she took off Valandil's boots and immersed her sore feet into the water, leaning back onto the palms of her hands.

It was then that she first noticed the small rays of sunlight piercing through the darkness and dotting the mossy ground. Laure looked up, expecting to see some form of animal life, but she saw none. All that was there to see were the thick, gnarled branches of the trees on either side of the river, crisscrossing over each other and attempting to block out the fading orange sunlight.

Bringing her gaze back down, Laure took her feet from the water and shook off the excess moisture. She would have taken a bath right then and there had she not been tried for time. She had to get home as soon as possible…

She stood up and stomped in the moss for a long moment until her feet were dry; how gross would it be to be walking around in boots with wet feet?

Laure yanked the boots on again and stopped all movement afterward. Her eyebrows drew close together as she looked to the right, and then left along the riverbank.

Which direction was west again?

Oh yes!

She remembered that the elven kingdom lay a few miles behind her north, so to the right must be west. It was the longer way, to travel along the Enchanted River and loop around to go through the Mountains of Mirkwood, but it was less chance of being caught and returned to imprisonment. She could not risk going close to the route of Thranduil's army, which was what going to the left along the river was. Also, she could not take the more direct path to the mountains by the Elf Path when there was a chance that scouts or watches have been placed periodically along the path during such dark times. A whisper of the Great Eye still remained and no race could afford to be careless.

From the Mountains, she would follow the river again until it connected to another, the River Running, which would take her across the plains of Edhel-Dagnir to home across the small sea.

How she wished she had not left home the first place… instead of stopping the war she fueled its purpose and gave the enemy ammunition! She jeopardized everything for her people and tipped the odds to the elves.

Now her people were going to fall for sure… there was no helping it now.

She had already done enough. Her last duty was to survive and get herself home safely, and then maybe she could help her father for a week or so before Thranduil made slaves of them all.

Her throat constricted tightly and her eyes misted; her guilt, her loneliness, her hunger, and exhaustion… so many things were assaulting her at the same time. She just wanted to break down and cry, to sob hysterically and hope for rescue… but chances of rescue were less than none. She was a weak, unworthy princess in enemy territory and she could hardly defend herself if the need arose.

Her best bet was to just give up and go back… she had a better likelihood of surviving in the elven dungeons than out here in this godforsaken spit of trees.

She would have done just that to if it were not for her pride, she decided as she began walking westward along the mossy riverbank.

She was surely her father's daughter

* * *

Legolas studied the ground with hard eyes as he followed the almost indiscernible tracks in the foliage. He inwardly cursed the sunset, feeling awkward because he had never before done so. The sunset was always a beautiful spectacle to behold, a whole show on its own. He loved watching the sun sink below the shadowed horizon, sending off rays of bright crimsons and oranges as its last farewell, but in this accursed forest, he could not watch as he did before. 

He found that the claustrophobia never lessened every occasion that he had to enter the dark woods of Mirkwood no matter how many times his father had assured him that it would. He knew he would never be able to get used to it: the feeling of icy death; it would always loom over him like a bad omen.

Legolas shuddered, unsure of whether to be concerned or not of that. He did not feel the cold, but as the light was fading he became more aware of the foreboding in his heart.

Silently, he drew one of his long, white daggers, the weapon gleaming comfortingly in the dying light of the sun.

The tracks he was following were fresh, only a couple of hours or so old. This was a good sign; he was quickly catching up… catching up faster than he had anticipated. The tauren princess would be a day's tracking or less ahead of him; it would not be hard to find her if she kept leaving tracks like these ones, even in the dark.

Her footprints were pressed into the moss and the dirt, evident and southward. They were not hard to spot, and with his keen eyesight, the dark only hindered them enough that he had to squint to see them.

Laure was either very foolish or fearless, both of which Legolas knew she was not. She may have tried to seem courageous during their short-lived friendship, but he knew she had many fears… many worries… And she was neither stupid, nor slow; she had enough common sense to get by during the day.

She must not have known of the terrors Mirkwood forest beheld… the monstrosities that never slept. There were wolves, Legolas knew as he heard one howl to the upcoming moon as the sun disappeared completely. And there were spiders… giant, horrible spiders capable of swallowing whole horses.

Legolas silently wondered, as he ducked a low, distorted branch, just how important this war was to his father. Was it so important to conquer Rhûn that he was willing to put his only son in danger to have him repent for crossing the line?

It was disproportionate, Legolas thought, and Thranduil needed to rethink his priorities straight.

The faint gurgling of water reached his ears, the sound music to Legolas' silence-weary ears. He found himself quickening his pace, only distantly watching to follow the tracks that lead him to the river.

He pressed through the thicker bushes, the mossy bank forming under his very boots. He quickly crossed the bank to the river and knelt next to it. He placed his white dagger next to him and pulled out an elven flask. Uncapping it, he put it to his lips, finishing off the small amount of water that was left within it. Running his mouth over his sleeve briskly, he put the flask halfway into the river, allowing the cool liquid to flow into it.

Legolas looked to his left briefly to see a few heavy tracks next to the riverside, before they headed off past him to the west.

Where exactly was she going, he wondered.

He took the flask back from the water and capped it before reattaching it to his belt. Grabbing his weapon again, he stood and began to follow the tracks once again, the moonlight reflecting off the gurgling water and dancing across his face. The moon was faint through the thick leaves, but it did well enough to illuminate his path to the slightest.

Despite the evil that resigned within these trees, Legolas decided that it did have its beauty. Though obscured heavily by fear and death, the trees did have an air of serenity.

He just hoped that Laure would not have any accidental meetings with the evils that dwelled in the darkness and see the beauty this forest hid.

'Please stay safe, Laure… Please…'

* * *

Her arms drawn tightly to her chest, Laure clambered along through the forest, jumping at any noise from the hoot of an owl to the rustling of bushes or leaves. Her breath came out sharp and quick, her ears flattened against her hair. 

She could hardly see where she was heading or what was around her, the breaks of moonlight doing nothing to illuminate her path and surroundings.

She could not help these panicked feelings as the fear gripped her heart. The dark was one of her worst phobias and it seemed to intensify the already sinister atmosphere suffocating her. She had not a single weapon to defend herself with and she was never very good at hand to hand combat, though what good it would have done her against the dancing shadows and figments of her imagination was questionable.

The river next to her babbled quietly and was glowing faintly in the equally faint moonlight.

Swallowing hard, she forced herself to keep moving, as much as she wanted to just curl up into a ball and block everything out of her frantic mind.

She knew she had to keep moving; her survival depended on it.

How she wished she was back at home in the safety of her own home, surrounded by her family.

If Laure had to list off her greatest regrets, coming to Mirkwood would have been her number one…

* * *

Lynx: (calmed down quite a bit) Sorry that this was such a short, late, and crappy update, my friends, but that's the best I can do right now. I'll try to get more writing done but I have a lot of things to do and a lot of issues to deal with right now. So bear with me, ne? 

Laure/Legolas/Haldir: cowering away still in fear that she might suddenly eat them

Lynx: And thanks to all of you that have left reviews, you make my heart sing.

Laure: (cough)CORNY(cough)

Lynx: (ignores Laure) Please review again, it'll make my day, I promise!!

Legolas: (cough)SUCK-UP(cough)

Lynx: (ignores Legolas) And please don't flame me! I know it's not very good, but I'm trying my best!!

Haldir: (cough)GUILT-TRIPPER(cough)

Lynx: …….. WILL YOU SHUT UP ALL OF YOU!!! RAWRRRR!!!

Laure/Legolas/Haldir: (run away screaming in fear of their lives)

Lynx: … phew… I think I blew a fuse… 3


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